Faerie Tale
by Kat Laleh
Summary: Vida Smoke, head faerie in the rebellion against the humans, is tough, clever and dangerous. Haunted by a violent past, filled with hate for the humans who have destroyed her ppl, she feels no regrets. Not until she falls in love with a human prince.R&R!
1. Chapter 1

Chapter 1

Author's Note: For the poor souls who have waited so long for an update in Mythics (which is forthecoming... soon), I decided to give you a chapter of a new story. Its much different then Mythics, and a little more in depth. I mess around with a lot of new stuff in this one (religion, racism, magic...) so be patient, but enjoy!! O yea, and its about faeries (i spell it the english way cause its cooler than fairies, the dumb american way)

In the dark alleys of Dorash, a figure could be seen. No one was entirely sure of its origin or purpose, but when the cloaked silhouette appeared, a chill would run through anyone within its sight. Some said the thing was a ghost from the war, sentenced to walk this miserable earth for eternity in search of a peace it would never find. Others gossiped that it was a spy for the crown, eager to find some choice morsel of information to allow the executioner to own one more pair of boots.

In reality, Vida Smoke was none of these. She was much worse. As one of the few remaining night faeries of the realm, she held skills that no one else could imagine. If the steward were to ever discover that there was a faerie in their midst, one with their powers unbound, severe consequences would be paid. She had only one purpose in life, and that was to never get caught.

The black cloak she wore, the hood always pulled up to cover all of her face, was more than a fashion statement. A night faerie had a very distinct appearance. While the day faeries only needed to hide their wings, for they otherwise looked human, her people had to make sure every last inch of skin was covered.

In both human and faerie terms, she was extremely attractive. Her dark black hair hung loose in ebony waves to her back, and her sharply angled face and petite body gave the illusion of tremendous fragility. Behind her black eyelashes rested wide eyes of an equally dark color. These were not the features that worried her. The esthetic detail that was the downfall to all night faeries was the deep purple skin that stretched across their entire body. For Vida, it was slightly lighter, but still most definitely there.

She walked deeper into the twisted alleys, ignoring the sparse person who looked upon her with fear. She knew if her hood had been down the fear in their eyes would mold into hatred. The faeries were a despised breed. It was as simple as that.

She stopped when she came to an abandoned building that might have once been some sort of warehouse. Any windows that weren't knocked out with bricks were black with dirt and grime. A sparse window hanging remained in one, and the tattered gray fabric flickered ominously in the light breeze. Vida smiled beneath her hood. Home sweet home.

She tapped at the door and a flap at eye level opened. "Your name and business," came a gruff voice.

"Vida of the Smoke clan. Open the door or I shall open it myself."

"Nay, missy. I'll be needing proof of your title."

She held up a purple hand so that the faerie behind the door could see it. "Reh'tils shunamey koor," she cursed. If there was a phrase in the Old Language that could sum up every swear, curse, and foul word in the abrupt human tongues, that was it.

This seemed to get his attention, and the door was quickly unbolted revealing a pale day faerie. He nodded a greeting and she entered without another word, in search for their leaders.

The war had taken a little piece of all of them. The faeries were already few in numbers, and the humans used that against them. Greatly out-strengthening them, they pushed the magical creatures further and further away from their forest villages, clearing land for themselves and farmers. At first, the faeries attempted to negotiate, but the humans would have nothing of it. Any promises made were broken, any truths were choked in lies. Finally, the once peaceful creatures of the skies fought back, but by then, there had been nothing left to fight for.

Even Vida had been drafted for service. At only eight years old she had learned to wield a dagger and sword, and it was quickly discovered that children made the best spies. She could slip in anywhere unnoticed, despite her odd skin color. Any leads the faerie gained in the endless war were usually thanks to the information of a certain child.

Unfortunately, there were simply too many humans and not enough faeries. All the remaining villages were burned, and any faerie found was bound into servitude, the day faeries' physical strength weakened through malnourish, the night faeries' magic secured with silver. This tiny pocket of free faeries was all the world had left.

"Efvern! Neef! Where are you?" Vida called, removing her cloak to reveal her plain clothes; a simple low-backed shirt to allow her wings to move, and plain leggings, the bottom half swallowed by sturdy boots. She flew up to the second level of the warehouse, knowing the stairs were so old they would break under her weight.

"In here," came Efvern's voice, and Vida followed it to the source. Efvern was a fellow night faerie, though his hair was ashy blonde. Neef was an old member of the day-folk. They were both studying maps of the realm, decorated with metal tacks to signify slave hotspots. "What news do you have?"

She found a musty, moth eaten seat and sat in it, ignoring the clouds of dust that choked the air from the motion. "There are some free faeries in the Gilshin Mountains, but they are all ice creatures and can't come away from the snow. The humans won't even bother going there because they have no real power to speak of, and the land isn't fertile."

"If we get some of our faeries there, will they be safe?" Neef asked.

She rolled her eyes. "There is no such thing as safe anymore, but yes. If we could get our people there, it would be a safe ground. I'm not sure if we would be able to get to the mountains, though. The humans have managed to capture a night faerie, and he's making sure no one enters or leaves the mountain."

"Do you know what clan he's from?"

"Black Shadow," Vida replied. "They have never been a particularly lethal clan. Their main gift is transportation." She shrugged for it mattered little to her. The Smoke clan was the smallest, but they were also the most powerful. Transportation spells were party tricks to her. She could easily overcome someone from Black Shadow.

"Is there anything else?" Efvern asked, pouring himself some water from a cracked pitcher on the table. He drank it all, even though it was stale and tasted of moldy wood.

"Yes. Prince Zanth is returning from his over-seas studies. His coronation will be held soon."

Neef growled dangerously, flicking a knife in and out of his hand. "Why does he study over-seas when so much turmoil resides here in his own kingdom?"

Vida said nothing for she had no answer. "His younger brother is part of the mountain patrol, guarding the Gilshin Pass. He's heading his own troupe."

Efvern nodded, looking at his dark fingertips as if they held an answer to their peace. "We need to see if we can get past that troupe. Vida, I know you just came back from your last mission, but men are short. I'll need to send you back out to learn anything you can. Find their weak spots and see how we can infiltrate them. If we can get to that mountain pass, we'll finally have a haven for the free faeries."

She nodded, already standing to put on her cloak. "There's one more thing. Lord Thengorn, the princes' uncle, wants a night faerie. One with real power. We are the last of the Smoke clan, so the rule stands stronger. Do not get caught."

Efvern nodded. "Same to you, dear sister."

Vida placed the hood over her dark hair and gave a rare smile. Without another word, she left, en route to the Gilshin mountains.

The moment she left the warehouse, she could feel something wrong. It gnawed away at her stomach as she walked the safe back streets of the Dorash capital, until, with a slight cry of frustration, she doubled back to the warehouse.

Her heart stopped at what she saw, but she willed herself not to panic. To panic meant to be caught, and to be caught was a fate worse than death. In front of the warehouse were several armed men wearing the scarlet and gold livery of the palace guard. Taking a few deep breaths to calm her nerves, she walked quietly around the men to the back of the building.

There were several exits and entrances to the abode, which was one of the reasons Efvern had chosen it for their headquarters. Removing her cloak, she flew to one of the higher windows and let herself in. She looked with cool detachment as she passed the stains of black faerie blood spilled on the dusty floor. She floated through the halls quietly, taking silent account of their losses.

Four day faeries were dead, the rest currently being transported to the market to be bought as laborers. The night faeries of the lesser clans had also been taken, but their powers were not potent enough to be used with any real force against the rebellion. She still hadn't found her brother yet. There was a chance that he had gotten away.

She entered the room they had been in earlier, and did not even blink at what she saw. This was not the first dead body she had seen, and it wasn't the first family member she had seen slain. When one's childhood games are replaced by political intrigue, and their coming of age signified their own chance to fight against the humans, the heart became numb to all abuse. She did not scream at the earth and curse the sky as she wanted to. Efvern wouldn't want her to. Instead, she knelt by her slain brother's side, and held his cold hand in a choked silence until the sun came up.

Prince Zanth pushed back the curtains of the carriage to observe the passing scenery. His ten years over-seas in the desert lands had left his skin darkly tanned and his once dark brown hair lightened from sun. He wore a white silk shirt that was adorned with pearl buttons. Over it was a dark blue vest of the softest velvet embroidered with thin silver designs. On his right hand was the royal family's signet ring, a silver band set with onyx and surrounded by diamonds.

The country outside was dreadfully boring compared to what he had left. There were farms. Hundreds of thousands of them, all stretching endlessly in their monochromatically annoying sameness of each crop. While he could never exactly remember a time when Dorash had been covered in forests, he definitely remembered a few more trees when he left for his studies.

"What do you think, your highness?" Thengorn, his uncle, asked him. "It will all be yours in a few short months."

"It looks just the same as the hundreds of other kingdoms I have been to" he replied, shortly. "What makes it different than anywhere else?"

Thengorn gave a slow, knowing smile. "Why, we have faeries still. This is the only kingdom where they haven't died out."

Zanth gave his uncle a disbelieving look. "Faeries? As in little wee folk wearing leaves and flowers?"

"No, sire. 'Tis much larger than what the stories say. If you saw one, it would only look like a short human. They serve us in return for safe haven in Dorash. Quite convenient, I must say, but there have been a few discrepancies."

"Like what," Zanth asked, curious despite himself.

Thengorn straightened his long velvet robes, taking his time in answering the question.

"There have been a few faeries who seem to feel they are above our agreement, and rebel against the peace we have made. Try not to let it disturb you too much, for we have already begun solving the problems."

"Why was I not aware of this while I was away?"

His uncle smiled that annoying condescending smile once more. "You were only eight years old when you left, and it seemed wrong to trouble your education with trivial affairs. Anyway, we must return to more pleasant subjects. I have arranged for a ball in honor of your homecoming. How does that sound to you?"

The prince groaned. "Excellent. Another chance for me to dance with all the eligible maidens until my feet fall off."

Thengorn was saved the bother of replying as the carriage jerked to a stop. Zanth stuck his head out the window and called to the driver. "Gaston, what is going on?"

"N-no trouble, my lord. Just a bit of an obstacle in the road."

Zanth had spent the last ten years of his life traveling frequently from kingdom to kingdom. He knew the sound of raiders when he heard it, and did not need to think twice for a course of action. He dove under the seat to retrieve his sword, and at the same time, a flaming arrow shot threw the curtains to the exact spot his head had been a moment before. He cursed as two more arrows shot through, quickly reducing the heavy curtains to ash.

Chancing a look in front of him, he saw his uncle had disappeared as if he never had been there. Zanth coughed, tore off his vest and tied it over his mouth as he struggled around the growing flames to open the carriage door. It was barricaded from the outside.

It took only a moment for him to deem himself much too big to fit between the windows, and even if he could there would no doubt be mercenaries waiting for him. He silently blessed the over-sea's cleverness at carriage design, for at the bottom was a trapdoor hidden beneath the carpet. Using his sword to hack off the remains of the thick rug, he opened the hidden door and slid through, disappearing into the surrounding countryside. At one fleeting glance behind him, he saw the culprits of the robbery. Strange folk, some with purple skin, others with white skin, and translucent wings. Each wore a silver crown.

Vida replaced her cloak and left the warehouse, her eyes dry of tears. Now that her brother was dead, command was left up to her. Unfortunately with all of the rebels enslaved, it meant she had no one left to command. That left only one option. Free the rebels.

This was easier said than done. Somehow, during the war, one of the faeries had let slip a crucial piece of information about their powers. A piece of silver across the forehead would bind any magic. Different combinations of precious stones and silver would enable or disable certain abilities. The most lethal mix was silver and onyx, which gave the crowner complete control over their subject. This was most likely what she would be up against.

It was not difficult to find the captive faeries. Those who were not yet crowned put up a fierce struggle against their shackles. Any who walked calmly, as if it was an everyday occurrence that they were turned into slaves, were bound by silver.

A safe distance away, Vida counted just how many guards there were, and weighed her slim chances of freeing all of her friends without being captured herself. The odds were very much against her, but it didn't worry her too badly, for she had done the impossible before.

She closed her eyes a moment, focusing her energy and calming her emotions. The key to success was to never divert attention to anything besides the goal. With that thought, she opened her eyes once more and directed her power simultaneously at the guards surrounding her people. They dropped into unconsciousness, never standing a chance against her. She then willed her attention at the crowned faeries. She would not reveal her presence if their will was still controlled; it would be her own death sentence. She could make it so the crowns slipped off the wearer to drop uselessly to the ground.

That finished, she finally revealed herself from the shadows. "Neef! Get us out of here, now!" He was skilled in transportation.

"Where to?"

She thought a moment. The phrase 'anywhere but here' came to mind, but she knew, as their new leader, she was expected to know everything. Fortunately, due to her aptitude in espionage, she was quite close to being what was expected. "The forest on the Dorash front, next to the Glaites River. That is a safe enough spot for now."

"That is behind the Gilshin Mountains. How will we get passed."

"I'm making the magic undetectable," Vida said, promptly, but silently thanking her friend for reminding her. She did a quick head count of all the faeries. There had been fifty all together in the warehouse, but thirty-six faeries remained. It would take a long time to make a comeback from this stab.

Neef entwined his pale fingers with her own dark hand, sending a bolt of urgency through her body. She nodded in agreement, and their eyes began to glow a strange, unearthly white from the power they wielded. In that beginning stage of casting, their souls ceased to exist entirely, completely swallowed up by the uncontrolled magic. Then, from countless years of training they reached into that fathomless pit of nothingness and directed it. The sheen from their eyes dimmed, and the unused power ebbed back down into a controlled flame.

Vida blinked a few times, loosening her grip from Neef's hands, and looked around. She was pleased, for the spell had been successful. The Glaites River could be heard rushing along, and she could see the mountains not far away. Of course, the forest was crawling with forest nymphs, tiny green leaf-creatures who would not welcome them on their land. Vida could already feel the tickling sense on the back of her neck that meant they were not alone.

"We come seeking sanctuary," Vida said, holding her hands up to prove she was not armed. (Of course, she didn't need a weapon in the first place) "We will not tread long on your land. We need a place to rest and find a new place to stay."

The group was hushed in nervousness. Nymphs, contrary to common belief, were not happy smiling little creatures with glittery cheeks and chubby hands. Each was extremely short, barely a foot in length, with dark tough skin that was impossible to penetrate with arrow or sword. Their faces were squashed and unsymmetrical, and their wide scar of a mouth was filled with tiny, razor sharp teeth. That was not the worst of it, though. There could never be just one nymph. They were like ants, moving in a mechanized pack for optimum benefits of hunting and protection. They had no sense of right or wrong, and only a slim grasp of what could actually be called a language.

There came a raspy, choking voice coming from all around them, as if the pack who had found them were speaking as a group. "Sanctuary, it says. We say, what that? Who cares what that. They tasty good."

Neef looked around with renewed urgency, and Vida motioned for an outward guard to be formed and all weapons drawn. "We will not stay long. We wish only for safe passage through the forest."

"Human says safety, they give us fire. Safety is fire, fire is safety. We burn the stinky humans first but they tastes like dirty. Faeries tasty good, though."

Vida gulped. If the humans had come here already with an attempt to burn out the wood-folk, she might have chosen the wrong place to lead her people. Though lies and flames had obviously not worked, she had no doubt that Lord Thengorn would quickly figure out another way to steal more land in his greed.

"You would not wish to eat us, little nymphs."

There was a sickly simultaneous giggle. "We think faeries is funny. Funny mean tasty good. What the purple faerie doing now? See the pretty lighty eyes. They shiny pretty lighty. What it doing? Stupid faerie going to fight!"

Vida, her eyes glowing a harsh diamond white, had no intention of fighting. Despite the bravado faeries put on with their gifts, it was a deep-set religious affront to use one's magic pointlessly. The First One, the mother of day and night faeries alike, had forbid it. There was, of course, a faerie here or there who would use their powers as cheap carnival tricks and meaningless trivialities, but it was also the same type who quickly lost what magic they had. They were simply humans with wings, nothing separating them from those clambering land-walkers. They were called _Lejdee_, or 'wasted-ones'. Vida had no intention of becoming one.

She was, on the other hand, very skilled at moving around the rules. While the Law said she mustn't misuse her power, it didn't say she couldn't create an illusion of herself misusing her power. Even the nymphs' hive brain would second think angering a night faerie with such little regard for the Law.

"Faerie is stupid _Lejdee. _Bring us bad luck and stinky tasty badly. Go away, nasty little wastes." The surrounding foliage shuffled as, by the hundreds, ugly, thorn-faced nymphs dropped from trees and vines and scuttled on stubby hands and legs away from the faerie party.

Neef clapped her shoulder fondly. "Nice thinking, Vida."

She smiled, hiding the nervousness she felt. "It was nothing. We must figure out what we are going to do. We have no more headquarters, and our numbers have been greatly reduced. Obviously, we can't stay here for long. The nymphs won't take kindly to us setting up homes, and it's too far away from the cities."

A day faerie stepped forward, her blond hair shorn short for practicality and her face as hardened as the rest of them. "I say we stop playing defense. It is time to take the fight to the humans."

There was a roar of general approval that made Vida suspect that they had thought about this for a while. She glanced at Neef, unofficial second to any Smoke leader, who gave a shrug. He would obviously have known about any discrepancies among the rebels; it was his job. That he didn't tell her about this particular one was disturbing. "Continue," she said, softly.

"There's not many of us who aren't enslaved, but who says this just has to be a fight for the faeries? Even those cursed nymphs are beginning to feel the greed of the humans. What about the ice-people in the mountains? They would surely help us if they knew." Her eyes were alight with passion and her translucent gray wings were fluttering in emotion.

"What is your name?"

"Reatre," the girl replied.

"And how old are you, Reatre?"

"I am fourteen. Fifteen in three months."

She nodded, calculating the number of years. "You would not remember the war, then. You are one of the lucky ones. Let me explain to you why we do not risk open conflict. The humans outweigh us in number, strength and weapons. We may have magic, but we cannot risk becoming _Lejdee._ That means that the humans have a severe advantage over us, and I will not risk the lives of our people no matter what the gain."

This time another faerie joined the conflict. "What if open war is exactly what we need. I am old enough to remember the war, but who's to say we might succeed this time."

"Who's to say we might fail!" Vida exclaimed. "I lost my entire family to the war, and I refuse to lose anyone else!"

And in a dramatic representation to show Vida just how far things had fallen out of hand, Neef, her brother's trusted advisor, took up the battle against her. "You have just lost your brother and it was not from a battle, it was from a massacre! It is time for the humans to pay!"

"And then what?" Vida cried, hurt shaking her voice. "Will we enslave the humans just as they have done to us? Turn the wheels so it is in our favor. They will just turn against us like we have to them!"

"So what do you propose?" said another, this one of the few night faeries in the group. "We make peace with them? Live in happiness and harmony? We have tried that! Your parents were murdered in an ambush to prevent just such a peace!"

Vida gasped, mortified that anyone would dare bring up her deceased family as a means of battle. "Bite your tongue!" Her eyes glowed with the starting plunge into her magic, but she quickly shook it away. This was no time to be hasty.

The same night faerie roared in outrage. "The Smoke clan has lead us long enough!" she shouted. "Their choices have lead us from bad to worse! Why should she be any different? It is not time for hiding. It is time to fight!"

Vida stepped up to the purple-skinned girl and grasped her hand tightly, challenging her with a face-to-face show of power. Female faeries were in no way as physically strong as the males; their genetic makeup simply deemed it impossible. To compensate for their lack of strength, their magic was ten times more powerful. While the men settled serious disputes with a normal fight, females couldn't chance it. Instead, by physical contact, they could measure each other's magical ability and, if they wished it, damage anything.

Vida worked on a dual level, one half of her diving into her magic to warn away the girl's intruding presence, the other sizing up her opponent's strength. Strong, but not a Smoke. If she was smart, she would let go of Vida's hand.

She did not. The girl, named Phell, fought with all of her might, scratching and tearing away at the impenetrable nothingness that was Vida. Vida pushed back, warning the girl away, keeping her in her place, but she wouldn't give in. She held onto her hand with a death grip, refusing to let go and break the flow of power.

Phell, pushed by desperation, tried the lowest dirtiest technique she could think of. To get Vida to loosen her power, she would show her what she feared. It didn't matter that she didn't know what the Smoke girl was scared of. A night faerie had a certain knack for telling what it was.

Vida, her eyes glowing white with power, suddenly blinked as she was side attacked by the demons of her own fear. She saw herself, a powerless _Lejdee_. She saw all of her people die by the sword of humans. She saw the remaining forests of Dorash totaled and demolished for cities and farmland. Choking on her terror, she sent a violent bolt of power down her hand to the girl, not realizing what she was doing, but knowing with every fiber of her being that she had to make these images stop.

The grip on her hand loosened and Vida blinked away the power from her eyes, taking in her surroundings. She was shaking from exertion, but had won, so she could keep her place as the leader. Looking down, she saw Phell, crumbled in a heap on the littered ground, not moving at all. She knelt by her side and gently rolled her over so she wouldn't crush her wings. That was when she noticed the strange coolness to the girl's skin and the dribble of black blood seeping from the corner of her mouth.

"Oh no," Vida breathed, dread freezing her heart. "Where is the healer! Get him, now!"

The healer rushed forward, eyes already glowing as he felt for the girl's pulse. Vida saw everything as if detached from her own body. The healer gulped in trepidation, his eyes glowing brighter as he attempted the impossible. The rebels closed in tighter around her and Phell's motionless form, and something wet rolled down Vida's cheek. She was crying.

"Why is she not moving?" Vida asked. "What is wrong with her!"

The healer's eyes dimmed and he looked at her with an emotion she had never seen directed toward her. It took her a moment to place it, but then she remembered where she saw it before. In the faces of slaves as they looked on to their human captors with livid disgust on their face. It was hate. And it was directed to her. "She is dead. You killed her."

There was so much anger! She could feel it crawl on her skin in a disgusting painful skulk, making her shiver with fear. They hated her. They would gladly kill her for her betrayal. Not waiting for their reaction, she closed her eyes and plunged deep into her magic, keeping them from doing what she knew would happen.

They would take her wings for this. Hidden under her cloak, the devices were not merely for decoration and flight. Most of a fairy's blood was located in their wings. To rip them off as violently as they were no doubt about to do would induce more pain then she was ever willing to feel. Pain that would end only in death. There was one way to prevent it. Just one.

She opened her eyes, and if possible the faces she saw held more disgust than before. For the first time in Vida's life, Neef brandished a weapon against her, slashing a razor sharp dagger across her face, leaving a cut from her cheekbone to her chin. "Get out of our sight, miserable _Lejdee_!"

Vida met his loathing gaze with eyes that were no longer black. The cut on her face welled with inky black blood, spilling across the dramatically changed color of her skin. "If you have chosen to ostracize me, you have chosen death." And then, the night faerie who had just performed one of the greatest spells since the completion of the war disappeared. She was no longer a faerie, though. She was human.

Prince Zanth stumbled over a raised root and cursed his unfortunate situation. Alone in the wilderness with only the clothes on his back and the sword on his belt, it began to dawn on him more and more that he may never find his way to the capital.

"What did I do to deserve this?" He muttered, crossly. He had always depended on other people for navigation. In the far east, there was no reason for him to learn his own way around. He constantly had someone to wait and serve him and, when the need arose, show him around. But it was even worse here, in his own kingdom that he didn't know, in the land he had grown up away from, on a landscape that he didn't even know.

He didn't dare going on the road again. He just knew that those faeries would be able to find him again, and this time make sure he was dead. Thengorn had said the rebellion was minor! That attack was anything but minor, it was desperate! At this rate, he was better off over-seas.

Over-seas! What if he could just find a way to barter passage back to the desert lands. But how would he find his way to port? He didn't even know where he was now.

His ears picked up the faint sound of rushing water, and he followed it to a wide, choppy river. He knew this to be the Glaites, and that it was the main river for shipping into the ports. If he walked on its banks long enough, he would surely find a boat that wouldn't mind an extra passenger.

Caked in ash and dirt from his hastened flight from the carriage, mouth parched from thirst, he could not resist the sweet temptation that the river offered. He knelt at the bank and filled his hands with water, splashing the freezing cold liquid across his face. He did his best to rub his face clean, and then drank his fill of water, trying to mask his growing hunger by waterlogging his stomach.

"You should not drink the water. Its dangerous," came a soft voice from behind him. He turned around and saw a very strange looking girl. She was small, hardly five feet in height, with peculiar gray skin and petite body. Her inky black hair was hidden by a deep hooded cloak, which accentuated two impossibly wide eyes of an equally impossible color. Well, impossible unless it was common for Dorash-folk to have bright violet eyes.

Zanth stood up quickly and gave a bow. "Milady," he said, courteously. "I did not mean to frighten you-"

"You did not frighten me," she cut off, rudely. "But there are things that live in the water that will not be pleased of you drinking from their home."

He resisted the urge to roll his eyes at her superstitious nonsense. "I am fairly certain that nothing in that river will mind if I take a few sips of water."

She blinked her violet eyes slowly, and pushed back her hood, causing ebony black hair to spill around her shoulders. "You do not believe me?"

Zanth chuckled softly, as if speaking to a small child. "Sure, I believe you, um… what was your name?"

She opened her mouth to reply, but the response did not come. Instead, with a voice heightened in alarm, she yelled, "Look out!"

Zanth hadn't even turned around when a sharp pain struck his kneecaps. Behind him, a strange creature was pulling itself out of the river to strike him with smooth round stones. The thing, whatever it was, had murky brownish skin that was tough with scales at all appropriate regions. It had arms, though they were abnormally thin and lead into hands that were webbed for swimming. Its face was long with wide black eyes and only the tiniest slit of a mouth. It dragged itself onto the bank with its hands, for it had no legs to push off with. Where its legs should have been was a very long tail that came to a sharp point at the end, almost as if it belonged to an eel.

Zanth didn't have much time to stare because the river creature had picked up another stone and chucked it at his forehead with surprising force. It hit his skull with an impact that made his vision blur, causing him to cry out in pain.

The girl, the strange purple-eyed girl, pulled the prince back and knelt at the riverbank. The creature was startled at first, and reached for another stone to throw, but she calmed it by doing the impossible. She spoke in its language!

The words were high pitched and painful to listen to. The thing replied in an equally screechy voice, but with gestures of anger.

"_Lejdee! Lejdee! Lejdee!_" it screamed, whipping its tail in anger. The girl jumped back, but not quick enough for the very tip of the creature's tail hit her arm, making her jerk in pain.

Zanth instantly rushed to her side and pulled her the remaining way from the bank. "Are you okay?"

The creature whipped its tail once more, than dove back in the river after shouting what sounded suspiciously like a warning.

"She says not to come near the river or they will make a typhoon to wipe out the forest," the girl said, matter-of-factly, as if she did not just get shocked by a freakish eel creature and didn't need to hold onto the prince's shoulder to keep from falling down.

"She! That thing was female?"

She frowned, crossly. "She's not a thing. She's a mermaid. I still can't feel my feet. Walk further away from the river."

"_That_ was a mermaid! I thought they were supposed to be beautiful," Zanth said, slinging the girl's arm around his neck to make it easier to drag her away from the river. He wasn't sure if the mermaid had been lying about being able to make a typhoon to wipe out the forest, but he definitely didn't want to test it while he was still on dangerous ground.

"She is beautiful. She is their princess, EE'iehv. Quite strong, isn't she?" She groaned a little and slouched as the venom in her body gave a particularly ruthless stab.

"What can that tail of hers do?" Zanth inquired, attempting to keep her mind off the pain by continuing the conversation. Although he did not know the girl at all, she had most likely just saved his life by sorting out the discrepancy with the mermaid, and he was duty bound to care for her until she could walk by herself.

"It is venomous. All the magical creatures have venom. Never make a night faerie angry, for their venom is easily the strongest, except for maybe the ice-people's."

"And how strong was this mermaid's venom?"

"As strong as her magic, and since she threatened to make a typhoon, I would think its fairly toxic." Although she said this with the same distant tone she spoke in before, she couldn't suppress another groan of pain.

Zanth was suddenly very panicked. "Will you die?"

Her gray skin began to bead with sweat, but she shook her head, impatiently. "I will become unconscious, and when I wake up I will not remember who I am. EE'iehv was quite angry with me, because of the-" she broke off suddenly, clamping her mouth shut.

Zanth shrugged, knowing that whatever she was about to say was her own business. "Why don't you tell me anything you can about yourself so when you wake up, I can tell you who you are."

She gave him a very long look with her unusual colored eyes. "Will you be there when I wake up, Prince Zanth?"

"How did you know that?" he asked, not sure if he was angry, impressed or both.

She gave a smile, but did not reply. In a moment, her remaining strength vanished, and her body slackened as she lost the fight for consciousness.

Already far from the river, he made a makeshift shelter beneath one of the trees and lay the girl down as he collected firewood. It was obvious he would not find his way out of the forest before nightfall, and even he wasn't foolish enough to try to walk through it in the dead of night. Hopefully, with a fire he could scare away any more creatures and perhaps even find a rabbit or raccoon to eat.

He quickly fashioned a trap with some twigs sharpened by his sword, and then went to work building up the fire until he heard his trap set off. He silently thanked the various long hunts he had been on over-seas, where it came requirement to learn such survival skills.

A few hours later, the unfortunate raccoon he had caught residing in his belly, he curled up next to the dying embers of the fire, watching the girl who had barely moved since fainting.

What was he supposed to do with her? Yes, he was honor bound to protect her, but she seemed to be only a few years younger than him. She would surely have a home to go to, possibly even a husband who was waiting for her. But she wouldn't remember anything when she woke up. What was he supposed to do?

The girl gave a shiver, and Zanth noticed her black cloak had come off her shoulders, revealing another strange oddity about her person. The clothes she wore where like nothing he had ever seen before. The tunic was much tighter than fashion, though the neck was high, covering all of her shoulders and chest. The back of the shirt was what really caught his attention, or rather the lack thereof. In a deep arc it stretched far below her shoulder blades, exposing the smooth skin on her back. And of course, there were the pants. He had never seen a girl who didn't wear long dresses or skirts.

Shaking his head, he decided that further evaluation should wait until morning.

Author's note: i just realized this has incredibly long chapters... i might be breaking them in half, just so it takes longer for u guys to get where i am. btw, this one isn't finshed. its only 60 pages so far... about two humdred pages left, if i have the right outline in my head. feel free to give me any comments


	2. chapter 2 part 1 sry!

Chapter 2

author's note: gimme lots and lots of reviews!!! i want the reviews!!! wahh!!! make them mean, be cruelly totally honest!! for any1 who has been following my recent madness, i got a tenative offer for publishing one of these stories (none that i've posted yet) so u have to be mean!! oo yea, thanks lulai for telling me the page breaks didn't show up. i didn't even kno!

She knew she was dreaming, but that didn't make what she saw any less terrifying. Before her was the crumbled form of a purple-skinned man, drenched in his own black blood. His beautiful ash-blond hair was stained with the same inky liquid. She did not know who he was, but she knew she had loved him and there was a cold terror in her heart where he belonged.

"Who are you," she asked the corpse, hoping beyond hope that it would answer.

The body, the dead body, opened its eyes and gripped her wrist with urgency. "You are the last."

With a scream Vida woke, fighting away the night specters in panic. Even more terrifying than the image of eyes glazed with death was that feeling of something inside her, lurking just beyond her reach. Dark and fathomless, it clawed away at her soul, trying to get her to let go.

She heard a voice, but dared not open her eyes to see the speaker. He spoke in a language she did not recognize, grabbing her shoulders roughly and giving her a solid shake.

That nothingness inside her stirred again, and she gave a cry of fear. What was it? She did not have time to contemplate, for the speaker forced her to open her eyes.

"Stop panicking. Let me explain…" What he was about to explain was lost, for Vida was struck with the sudden realization that she could understand him.

She answered carefully, tentatively tasting the syllables on her tongue before speaking. "Y-you live here? Yes?"

He laughed softly, and she found that she liked his laugh. "Not exactly. I was under the assumption that you live here. Do you remember anything? Your name, your family's name, where you live?"

Vida racked her brain for a memory before that horrible nightmare, but her attempts were futile. She might as well have been born five minutes ago for the amount of proper reminiscences she had. "No, there is nothing."

"Do you know where we are now?" he pressed, eagerly.

That, it seemed, she could remember. "We are in Dorash, near the Glaites River." She probed deeper. It seemed she could remember where she had lived, where she was now, that she hated being without her cape, but she could not remember _who_ she was. It was like watching a play when all one could see was the background. "I used to live in the capital," she said absently. "I can't remember why I left. Something bad happened…" she broke off as the memory ceased to exist. "No, I can't remember anything."

He sighed and ran his fingers through his sun-highlighted hair in frustration. "If only there was something we could work off."

"Who are you? Do I know you?"

"No, well yes. A bit. You saved my life last night when the river-creature stung you. I promised I wouldn't leave you." He held out his hand, and Vida grasped it uncertainly. "I'm Pr- I mean, I'm Zanth. The merchant's son. My carriage was raided so now I must find my way to the capital." He paused, looking at her expectantly. "If you lived in the capital, maybe if you go there you can remember who you are. If not, the palace has some of the best healers in the land. They can surely figure something out."

She pulled her hand from his grasp, realizing that she did not want someone else touching her when she didn't even know who she was. "Why are you helping me?"

He gave her a bemused look. "I gave you my word, didn't I?" He stood, and offered a hand to help her up. "We should start moving anyway. I don't suppose you know how to get to the Gilishin Mountains from here. My brother is working in a fort there."

Vida closed her eyes, and a map flickered in front of her vision, brought forth by the blackness inside her. "Go north. There is a bridge crossing the river. Go west from there, following the…" A strange word popped into her head, from the language she had originally spoken. She muttered it out loud, then tried to find Zanth's equivalent. "Nymph trail, but make a deal with them before walking the path. What fort is your brother in?"

"Fort Motif," Zanth replied, and couldn't help but wonder just who this girl was before she had lost her memory.

"Have to cross the ice-people. Fangs. Blood. Ice…" she was lost within the fathomless _thing_ inside her, rambling out words without really understanding what she was saying. For a moment, she lost herself to its impenetrable void, clawing to free herself from the darkness.

"Oy! Girl!" In a moment of panic, he struck his palm sharply against her cheek, and it seemed to wake her up from the strange trance she had fallen into. He was no healer, so could not describe what it was she was doing. Perhaps it was a normal reaction for memory loss.

"Wh-what happened?"

Zanth was silent a moment, but took pity on the girl due to the panic in her eyes. "You're probably still a little weak from getting stung, that's all," he replied. "Look, if north there's a bridge, then north we will go."

The girl nodded and bowed her head at a sharp downward angle, letting her hair curtain her face. Through the glossy ebony waves he saw the fierce anger at herself written clearly on her face. The intense self-loathing seemed to hide another emotion. Fear. More to distract her from her anger than anything else, Zanth began to speak. "I suppose we should figure out some name for you since it seems we'll be traveling together for a while. I can't keep calling you 'girl' for the whole journey."

She shrugged, noncommittally, as if it mattered little to her. "You can call me whatever you wish. A name is a name."

"Alright then. What do you think of Beatrice?"

She made a disgusted face at him, but then realized he had been teasing her and laughed. "Or Olga?"

"Or Bernadette?"

"Or Agatha!" She let out a peal of laughter, and plaited the long hair she had been hiding behind, feeling like there was no more reason to disappear.

"Seriously, though. I think you look like a Sarah. Do you like that?"

She thought about it seriously, then nodded. "Yes, I like it. Sarah of the forest, since I have no proper family name."

Sarah met Zanth's eyes and gave him a sincere smile. He couldn't help but grin back, for in a world of political intrigue, honesty was something rare. It seemed there was reason enough to look after her, after all.

(_page break- for lack of originality)_

Lord Thengorn threw a velvet blue purse upon the oak table, and it made a loud clank as the heavy gold coins were tousled together. The flickering torchlight plunged his accomplice's face in shadow, but his hand shone deathly white as it reached out to grab the coins.

"I will expect this to be done quickly," Thengorn stated. "The day faeries have their strengths, but I only have male night faeries. The females are the ones with the magic."

The man nodded mutely, not willing to stake his professional appearance by pointing out that he already knew all of this. "For a female, this seems a pretty small sum." He jingled the purse in his hand. No, this was more than enough, but Thengorn didn't know that. "I will need to get the oil-vein to come willingly," he explained, using the foul nickname the humans had given the winged creatures due to their black blood. "And that is easier said than accomplished."

Thengorn didn't hesitate. When it came to money, he was a stickler in the first degree, but the entire balance of his plan depended on using the power of a night faerie. "Five carats of diamonds from the isles upon deliverance."

"And?"

"And you should be groveling at that offer!" Thengorn shouted. Despite his nobility, he was a very imposing man. Broad shouldered and red-faced, he tended to breathe a demonic-air when provoked.

"It is you who should be groveling for my skills," his associate quipped easily, fearless of his benefactor's sudden mood change.

This seemed to wake Thengorn's senses, and the spurt of violent temper disappeared as if it had never been. "Then what are you suggesting?"

The man stepped forward, looking at Thengorn with such intensity that the lord was forced to back away. "I want one thing, and it happens that we may be able to work together."

Thengorn was keenly interested. "I'm listening."

"Vida Smoke, the last of the strongest clan of night faeries. I give her to you and you keep her _alive_." He put an extra force on that word, stressing it by flicking out the dagger on his belt and running his fingers along the razor sharp edge. "When you are finished with her, she is mine."

He was instantly mistrustful. "What does this creature possess that you find so interesting?"

"That is not your concern," he said, beginning to dig the point of the blade into the soft grains of the table. "What is your concern is that I am willing to take only the gold in this purse to go through with it, if you meet my demands. It is a simple request. When you are done with her, give her back to me." He could see in Thengorn's eyes how he calculated his gains and losses, adding up for his own total benefit. "Know this, if you agree, you are sworn to your word with your life. Do not break this agreement or I will know."

A slow smile crept across Thengorn's lips, and he held out his right hand. "I believe we have a deal."

"Excellent." He clasped his ghostly hand in Thengorn's bulky fingers, and they shook on it.

A.T.: yes it is true...i'm breaking the chapters into chunks. they are too long for a website (i kno i wont sit in my computer chair reading them, so why should you.) next part keeps going with sarah/vida and zanth. you wont kno who the mysteious dude (for lack of a better term) is for a while yet. anywho...ta ta for now. (o yea... BE MEAN!!!)


	3. ch2 part 2

Chapter 2 part 2

A.T.: cruel and torturous cliffie at the end, i kno. nothing i can do, cus if i givbe u antother chpt u'll be officially caught up with me (i like to stay ahead of evry1. lol) u can r&r my other fics tho (wink wink!). anywho...lotsa action in this one, so i hope it makes sense. no new characters as of yet...

Sarah winced and shielded her eyes as Zanth's technique of striking two stones together finally gave them a flickering fire. "What's wrong?" Zanth asked.

She kept a gray hand over her eyes as she replied. "Nothing. The light is very bright." She reached back with her free hand and sought the hood for her cape. Once over her head, it filtered some of the bright potency from the fire. She gave a soft sigh of contentment and eased her tired body onto the damp brush she had fashioned into a sleeping mat.

"Are you hungry? I can probably catch something again," Zanth offered.

His companion was silent for a moment, smiling dreamily to the starry sky. "We're sitting by a bush with berries and below a tree with edible nuts. Why would you need to catch anything?"

Zanth looked around and realized she was right. Littered on the floor were slightly cracked nuts that he recognized as a popular midsummer holiday food. He picked up one and peeled the outside coating, and nibbled it experimentally. It had an odd taste, not quite salty but not exactly sweet. He decided that it was edible enough, and ate several.

Sarah hadn't moved from her position on the ground, her hands linked behind her head, the hood of her cape shielding her sensitive eyes. "What kind of merchant are you?"

Zanth coughed a little, and silently thanked the darkness for she could not see his face burn red. "Why do you ask?"

"You are dressed very well to be just a merchant." She paused a moment, closing her eyes as she tried to grasp another memory. "At least I think, anyway. Your ring reminds me of something."

Zanth gulped. No doubt the ring would remind her of something. Every member of the royal line owned such a ring, heavy silver band inlaid with intricate detailing in an ancient language that no one understood. In the center was a substantially sized onyx stone surrounded by white diamonds. "Well, it's a bit of a family heirloom. I received it on my eighteenth birthday." He didn't want to let it slip quite yet that he was prince and heir to the land that they currently dwelled in. He was still enjoying having someone treat him without an annoying revering respect, and didn't want to give it up yet.

She hummed softly in agreement, and turned her face away from the firelight. After the long day of simply treading through the forest, her legs felt watery and exhausted, as if she had never used them before. There were blisters forming on the bottoms of her feet, despite the boots that protected them. It made her think that perhaps she had been some sort of noble, who had no reason to walk long distances.

But that didn't make sense either. If she was a noblewoman, why did she have such deep knowledge of the countryside? And what was that _thing_ inside her, that stirred whenever she closed her eyes for too long and clawed its way to freedom whenever she didn't bind it tight. It frightened her, but at the same time she felt she would be lost without it.

"Zanth?" The prince was slowly drifting to sleep, and gave a half muffled grunt of a reply. "Why are you still with me?"

"Why shouldn't I be? I need to get out of this cursed forest too, and its more interesting with company, don't you think?" He yawned widely, and removed his outer vest to serve as a pillow. "Besides, we're going to the same place, aren't we?"

"I suppose so. I'm just sorry. I feel like such a burden." She laughed softly, at her foolishness. "Here you are, helping me even though you have no idea who I am. Even though _I_ don't know who I am. I guess its silly, isn't it?"

"Not at all." He was about to comfort her further when she sat up suddenly, her eyes losing they're dreamy glaze. The hood fell down and she cried in pain as the firelight pierced her eyes.

At the same time, the tree that they had camped under groaned as it was pulled from the roots out of the very ground. Zanth froze, staring in twisted horror as the tree's mighty branches closed with his face. Half-blinded, Sarah reached out and grabbed her companion by the collar, wrenching him back and tumbling out of harm's way.

"What in the name of-!" Zanth let loose a few extremely raw words that caused Sarah to raise her eyebrows.

The tree toppled over as it lost it's will for animation, just as roots began to spring from the ground like snakes, searching for a body to wrap around and choke. "Move!" Sarah yelled, just barely managing to untangle her legs from Zanth before the roots found their target.

"What is this magic?" Zanth yelled, panic in his voice as he copied Sarah's very strange gait of hops and leaps to avoid the clinging roots.

_Magic!_ Without warning, a slight fraction of memory revealed itself. "Its faerie magic! Night faerie! Build up that fire."

"Why?" He unsheathed his sword and hacked at a root that had found his ankle, and then repeated the motion for Sarah, who was trying to free her wrist.

"A night faerie's eyes change in the darkness so they can see. If you build up the fire it will blind them enough for us to get away."

"How do you know this?"

She turned fast, and raked her nails across his cheek. "Reh'tils shunamey koor!" she hissed, repeating a very colorful swear word that had just appeared in her memory. "Just go! I can't see!" It was true. The firelight, even from so far away was wreaking havoc on her eyes, and she was forced to find her way around with her remaining senses. It seemed her body was used to such adaptations though, and had no trouble moving around the clinging roots.

One of the branches twisted around her cape, tugging at the edge until the ties choked her. She tore it off and ran blindly ahead, fear suddenly striking her heart. She ran straight into another body. "Zanth?" No, it was not Zanth. The scent was different. Something about him was painfully familiar though.

"TRAITOR! SCUM! _LEJDEE_!" She heard a dagger being drawn and only just managed to avoid it. "You betrayed your people!" The dagger fell again, this time cutting a deep line into her collarbone. She yelled, pushing the specter away. "You walk with the man who is responsible for your suffering!"

Tears stung her eyes, but she pushed them away with an effort. "Zanth! The fire!"

The specter grabbed a fistful of her hair, pulling her forward. "What have you done, Vida? You have ruined us."

"Who are you! Who is 'us'! I don't remember!" Tears spilled from her eyes, not for pain of the cut, for it was only a flesh wound and she could remember feeling worse pain than that, but from the sheer frustration of knowing a voice and not being able to place its source.

"Have you lost your senses completely? You walk with a human and let him light a fire near you! _Lejdee_!" He repeated that word again, that foul grotesque word that caused her to cringe with shame. He spoke in a different language than Zanth, one that felt more natural to listen to.

"Zanth! Where are you!"

"He is dead, Vida! Listen to me! It's Neef, I'm your friend!" He loosened the grip on her hair so that it became a firm presence instead of painful.

She flicked her tongue across her teeth; feeling for something that she knew would be there now that she needed them. There! Her canines had sharpened dramatically and were now dripping a sweet toxin onto her tongue. She turned her head roughly and sunk the fangs into her captor's arm. He yelped, and wrenched his hand away. There was a disturbance in the air, and his presence was gone.

"Zanth?" she called softly, arms probing in the blinding whiteness for her companion. "Zanth, where are you? Please say something! I can't see!"

"Sarah. Over here." His voice was strangled and guttural, as if something was preventing his breathing. "Help!"

The roots! One must have clamped around his lungs. She hurried toward his voice, feeling for his body. Her hand touched the silken shirt, and found the tough root right below it. "Your sword. Where is it?"

"Below your feet," came his muffled response.

She groped around until her hands clasped around the cold metal. With as much strength as she could muster she chopped away at the root until Zanth crumbled to the ground, gasping for breath.

"I'm so sorry," she cried. "It's all my fault. He knew me and was angry with me, but I can't remember why! And the light hurts my eyes so badly in the darkness that I can't see, and I couldn't find you and…"

He interrupted. "Sarah, I'm about to pass out." With that, she felt his body slacken as he lost consciousness. She felt for his pulse and realized it was much too slow. His breathing seemed equally labored. If she didn't get help, he would die.

The blackness inside her was like a stormy ocean that she needed to ride a boat on. It wanted to be used! It wanted to be let out! She gripped Zanth's hand in her own, tears still wetting her face. "Fort Motif. That's where your brother is. Take us to Fort Motif."

The power rushed up, drowning her screams of fear as it plunged her very soul into the stark void. She fought it, viciously wrenching for the upper hand. She gripped Zanth's hand tighter, and when she opened her eyes they glowed an unearthly white. Then, she simply let go. Like a slingshot, both were flung into nothingness.

As one, they hit the ground. Zanth was still unconscious, and Sarah could once more see. Snow was freezing her bare shoulder, and she was caught in a horrible mess of Zanth's sprawled form. "Help! Someone, help! I need a healer!"

She heard several sets of footsteps close in, but could no longer muster the strength to lift her head and find the source.

"Good God! That's my brother! Hurry and get a travel cot." The speaker knelt at Sarah's side, lifting up her head. "Who are you?"

"I don't know. Please help Zanth."

"How did you get here?"

Sarah pushed herself up to her feet, clutching her wounded shoulder in an attempt to stop the bleeding. When she looked at it, she felt her strength waver, for the entire side of her shirt was soaked in dark black liquid. The world around her turned, and she collapsed to the ground once more. Whether from lack of blood or shock from using her newly found (and very frightening) powers, she felt the last reserves of strength abandon her. "It doesn't matter. Just help Zanth." She fell the rest of the way to the ground, the cold snow cushioning her fall.

A.T.: okay, so maybe ther is a new character. how am i supposed to kno! i only wrote it. lol. check out my profile for a few laughs... (and a list of my other stories) wink wink nudge cough


	4. ch 3 all of it!

**A.N.: heres another incredibly long chpt. (hey u guys were the ones who said u didnt want me to split them up.) theres a lot of scene breaks and flash backs and flash forwards... hopefully i'll get each one but if i miss one tell me.**

Chapter 3

Sarah had another dream, this equally as terrifying as the last. She was prowling the dark alleys of a city, hidden beneath the thick folds of her black cape. She could feel something on her back that was slightly alien, and yet sweetly familiar, like meeting an old friend from childhood. She reached back and could feel a gauzy papery substance beneath her fingers. They were wings.

The murky scenery around her changed, and she was suddenly in the middle of two warring groups. On the right side of her were small, slender people. Some had skin of pure white, others were colored in a deep dusty purple. All had beautiful translucent wings on their backs. On the left were humans. Zanth stood out among them, glaring at her with hatred in his eyes.

"Oil-vein! Get out of here and stop pretending! You can never be one of us!" Zanth's words were like a dagger in her heart, and she turned to the people on her other side, for there was something sweetly familiar about them.

Their faces matched the human's for disgust. "By the First One, get out of my sight! _Lejdee_, wasted-one, traitor!"

Sarah gasped, feeling more and more lost as the dream unraveled. Was she truly this alone in the world? There wasn't much time to pity her own misfortune for both sides stepped forward. Zanth lead the human side, and the faerie she had met earlier, named Neef, lead the other. Both reached forward and viciously grabbed the ebony black wings on her back and tore with all their might. Sarah screamed, for she had never felt pain so real, so unbelievably intense. She clawed at her back, tears welling in her eyes, but her hands only met bare skin, wet with black blood.

"Sarah! Wakeup! Its only a dream!" She wrenched her eyes open and sat up so fast, she knocked her head with Zanth's. "Ow!" He rubbed the abused part of his skull, wishing that he had thought to stay a little further away when waking her up.

"Zanth! Are you okay? I thought you-" She tried her best to shake off the horror of the nightmare and regain self-control, but it had been so vivid and real, it was difficult. She was forced to reach back and remind herself that she was very much human and definitely did not have wings.

"I'm fine." He paused a moment, rubbing his ribs. "Okay, I've been better, but the Fort Motif has excellent healers. Patched up that cut on your shoulder, too." He gestured to the mark and she pulled the collar of her shirt to the side to examine it.

"Why is it black?" she asked. Indeed, the hardening scab was the color of the darkest night.

"The healer thinks the blade was poisoned." He shook his head. "My brother says that you carried me up the entire mountain, and with all your blood loss you could have died." She looked away, becoming transfixed with the small cuts on her hands. "He said that if the healers had tended to me a moment later I would not have made it." Her gray cheeks suddenly burned a slight crimson in embarrassment. "He said when you finally reached the fort you couldn't even walk, but still ordered a healer for me."

Sarah was having a rather difficult time recollecting the events of the past night, but taking a quick look at her blistered feet, felt that Zanth's explanation was entirely plausible. Her muscles were sore enough to blame on carrying a boy two heads taller than she up a mountain, and the pounding drum in her head could easily be excused for blood loss. "It was nothing."

Zanth caught her chin and forced her to look at him. "It was not nothing. That is the second time you saved my life in just as many days. Thank you."

She recalled her dream, in which it was his touch that had caused her such pain and moved away. "I'm sure you would have done the same for me. Are you sure you're alright?"

"I'm walking around, aren't I? Here, can you stand?" He held out his hand and Sarah used it to pull herself up. The moment the blanket fell from her shoulders a blast of chill air hit her, and she shivered.

"Oh! It's so cold!"

Zanth rolled his eyes. "Well we are in the mountains. Thankfully I thought ahead." He pointed to a plain wooden bench by the bed. "There's some clothes for you. Not the same as yours, but a bit more practical for the snow."

She walked over and found a silk tunic with an over vest lined in fur. It was a handsome garment, clearly made for someone with a decent allowance. "Dare I inquire as to its previous owner?"

"Its my brother's. He's always in uniform though, so he didn't mind." She slipped the garment over her existing shirt, and Zanth felt a pang of regret as it covered the latter's low back.

The room's thin door opened and Zanth's brother entered. They looked very similar, with the same chiseled blue eyes and straight nose, but Zanth was a few inches taller than his younger brother. "Milady," he bowed to Sarah, then kissed her fingertips. "I owe you more than words can say."

Sarah, quite taken aback by the strange courtier impression, was shocked to silence. Thankfully, Zanth cut in. "Sarah, this is my brother, Garyth. Garyth, meet my guardian angel."

He grinned at her slowly, but there was a frozen detachment to the smile; it didn't quite meet his eyes. "Would you allow me to give you're lovely companion a tour." He spoke to his brother.

Zanth gave him a stern look. "Why don't you ask her?"

Sarah itched at the collar on her new shirt. She would have very much liked to continue on her way to the capital, but remembered that it had been Garyth who had so kindly given up his wardrobe for her own warmth. "A tour would be wonderful."

Garyth offered his hand and lead her delicately out of the room. Sarah made a mental note to question Zanth about his brother's strange behavior. Beyond the door was a narrow hallway filled with similar doors, creating the sleeping barracks. The hallway lead to a mess hall which, as Garyth explained, dually served as a training ground when the weather was too harsh outside. The walls were made sturdily of local forest wood, and heavy tapestries covered the main rooms to keep in the warmth. Furniture was mismatched and highly lacking; many people were eating their afternoon meal on the floor, close to the crackling fire.

"This is the main housing area. The kitchens are through there," Garyth pointed to an adjoining door in the mess hall. "And there are smaller forts outside, but they are mostly kept for wood and food storage. So, please tell me, Lady Sarah, how did you meet my brother."

Zanth had left to see the healer once more about the bruises on his ribs, feeling she could handle herself in the situation. Apparently he had thought quite wrong, for she had no idea how to answer that question. They had never 'met' in her memory. She had woken up and he was there, as simple as that. "We met each other in the forest, and since we were both headed for the capital we thought it best to travel together." That seemed like a good enough answer.

"Why weren't you on the road. The safest paths are always on the royal roads. You are lucky you weren't killed by the faerie rebels in the forest."

Sarah bit her lip. There was something about this boy that disturbed her. She didn't want to admit that she had no idea why either of them had been in the forest. She had no desire to confess she couldn't remember anything before that first horrible nightmare in which a corpse spoke to her. Instead of answering his question, she responded to the second statement. "Who are these rebels? Was the faerie we met one of them?"

Garyth nodded. "If it's not in servitude of a human then it is a rebel. Damn oil-veins cause more trouble then they mend, if you will excuse my saying so, Lady."

She cringed at the word 'oil-vein'. It sounded foul and dirty and it triggered a spur of hatred in her heart that she didn't know existed. She had no trepidation of voicing her displeasure. "That word you used. It is… racial."

He laughed as if speaking to a child who had just said something witty. "They're not human. They can't be classified as a race because they are not people to begin with. They live only to serve us."

That spark inside her flared, and she found herself incredibly angry. "They are thinking, logical creatures who have strong minds and limitless power at their fingertips. Do you not think that you would get better 'servitude'-as you so eloquently put it- if they chose to do it by themselves."

"And what if they don't," Garyth quipped easily. "All they want is their bloody forests with no regard toward the prosperity of man. What would we do if they all refused to serve us?"

Sarah waved her arms in heated argument. "If they refused to serve you then you had no right making them slave in the first place! And there would be no prosperity of man without those 'bloody forests'. There is magic in the trees that makes the ground fertile. The more trees you cut down the less rich soil you will have for your farms."

Garyth scoffed, disbelievingly. "That is nothing but superstitious nonsense for bedtime stories. We live in the world of facts, not magic."

She paused, taking a deep breath and calming her emotions. That dark thing inside her was stirring once more, and she wanted it under control before she spoke once more. "Just because you can't see something doesn't mean it isn't real. The air that you are breathing now, can you see it?"

"No, but that's different."

"I fail to see how. You can't see it, touch it or taste it, but its most definitely there. You would know if it wasn't. This is just the same way. Once you lose it, you will miss it terribly." _How do I know all of this_, she thought in a state of slight shock. _Who on earth was I_?

He took a step forward, raising his hand in anger. Sarah flinched instantly, backing away, but Garyth dropped his hand. "No, I will show you something, Lady Sarah, that will change your mind." He hooked his hand through her elbow and lead her outside. The air was cold and crisp, and snow and ice crunched under her boots as she walked.

"Where are you leading me?"

"You will see, Lady Sarah," Garyth replied in an ambiguous tone.

The further they walked from the main housing the colder it became, until it was all Sarah could do to resist shivering. Fortunately, in her current state of anger, her pride prevented her from doing any such thing. In the distance was a small shack covered in snow. Even from afar she could see the thin walls would do nothing to keep the cold out, and the damp from the snow was seeping through the wood.

"What is this? A meat cellar?"

Garyth smiled. "You could say that." He removed the lock and padlock over the door and pushed it open. "After you, milady."

She stepped inside and was met by murky darkness. She closed her eyes a moment, and when she opened them she could see as well as if lights were shining in. Unfortunately, at that point she would have preferred to remain in the darkness.

Strange faces peered up at her, most with skin of a glowing white but a couple with dark purple faces. Each had an intense look of forlorn and desperation; their eyes without any form of hope. One said something, and the language was so musical and soft, filled with such emotion that she gasped in surprise. This was _her_ language, the one that felt more natural and right than any that she spoke with Zanth.

"Get out of here, human. There is nothing to see here." The pale-faced faerie said, his wings drooping in defeat.

Garyth entered the room behind her, a soft smile twitching his lips. "They can speak our language, any language, actually. Its one of their gifts. These are recently captured rebels. The shipments of silver headbands are not in yet, so we must keep them cold. It dilutes their power enough for them to be restrained."

She spun fast. "Silver! Do you know what silver does to them?"

"Of course. It shuts off their free will so they must do whatever we say. They are much safer that way."

"Safer for you or them? Do you know what its like to have to do something without choice. Would you want to do it!"

Garyth raised himself up in an effort to look imposing against her fiery temper. "Of course I wouldn't, but I'm not a faerie, am I? They were created to serve! You don't seem to understand that."

She dug her fingers into the soft leather of his shirt and let loose the blackness in a painful shock. He jumped back, a look of horror in his eyes. "You dare strike me, peasant! Do you know what the penalty is for that?"

"I may be a peasant, but you are no better than a scoundrel, a liar, and a thief!" She turned abruptly, marching out of the shack to find Zanth, but Garyth halted her progress by catching her arm. "Let go of me, sir, or I shall hurt you."

And Garyth, so taken aback by the display of raw passion that this scrawny, short female possessed, did exactly that. He watched her run back to the barracks, a curtain of black hair shimmering in her wake. Perhaps it was his eyesight, and perhaps it was a trick of the light, but staring at her shrinking form he could have sworn he saw iridescent black wings flicker on her back.

"Zanth! Zanth, where are you!" Sarah entered the mess hall in a blind and senseless anger. Zanth was sipping at a very healthy (but horrible tasting) tea. The healer had said it would help him heal faster. He couldn't see how Sarah could be running around the mountain with such emotion, now. If he could just barely manage to stand for a whole hour, she should still be bedridden.

"What is it, Sarah?" He handed her a cup of the tea. "Drink it, it helps with the pain."

She took the mug and threw it on the floor where it shattered upon impact. "Do you know what they do here? Do you know what the entire purpose of this fort _is_!"

Zanth was numb for a moment, in a state of sheer shock, but quickly regained his composure. "Of course I do. It's a buffer for the capital to keep out the rebels."

"And the rebels. Do you know who they are?"

"Magical creatures, but mostly the faeries. Why are you asking me this?" Sarah, who was usually so calm and serene, had now lost any sense of self-control. She radiated with energy as she spoke.

She took a deep breath, clenching her hands into fists and closing her eyes, fighting deeply with something in herself. She continued in a soft, intense whisper. "Do you know what they do to the faeries when the are caught?"

"I would hope they are silver-bound, or at the very least kept cold. Why?"

She didn't answer him. "And you have nothing at all against this practice. None in the least."

"By gods, Sarah, they're rebels. We're not about to serve them tea and cake."

"By the First One, Zanth, the rebels aren't the only ones in captivity. You are treating them like dogs!"

Zanth tried to explain as well as he could. "That's all they are, Sarah. Dogs. They aren't human; they aren't like us. If they weren't bound they would kill us."

She stepped back slowly, a look of horror in her eyes. "Is that all they mean to you?"

"Yes- I mean, no. Sarah, come back. I'm sorry."

She stopped in her flight to stare at him with raw emotion in her eyes. "No, I'm sorry. I'm sorry that you can't see anything passed the end of your nose. I'm sorry that you were raised with such prejudice in your heart, and I am sorry that I ever met you. Good bye, Zanth."

She turned once more and just barely missed running into Garyth. "This girl should be hung!" he cried in outrage. "She dares strike a member of the royal family!"

"The royal family? Of Dorash?" Sarah shot Zanth a look that would have sent him to a boiling pit of lava if that happened to be one of her paranormal talents. "After all this time you couldn't find a spare moment to tell me you were from the royal family!" She stepped forward and grabbed his hand, examining his ring. "Of course you are. This is their signet ring! By the First One, how could I be so stupid!"

"Sarah, I was going to tell you. I really was-"

She interrupted him with a swear. "Reh'tils shunamey koor! I don't want to hear it anymore! Good bye to both of you!"

Quickly, she stuffed a pack with supplies and stole a fur lined cloak from Garyth's closet. No one stopped her. She stormed from the barracks as loud as possible. No one stopped her. Finally, she came once more to the shack. Instead of walking away she removed the lock with a large stone and took off the padlock. As the faeries took to the skies in a colorful array of wings and magic, men began to poor from the fort in an attempt to recapture them. She began to walk down the mountain, forgotten in the recent confusion. No one stopped her.

(PAGE BREAK)

In Sarah's dream, she was a child. Perhaps more than a child, for her mind seemed remarkably mature for one so small. She was walking on the road from her village, awaiting the arrival of her parents. She didn't fully understand why they had left, only that it had been very important and it had involved humans. But a runner had arrived early that morning to tell the village they would be coming home soon. Her plan was to meet them on the road and surprise them.

There was something strange in the way she walked. Her feet almost never touched the ground, rather the black gauzy wings on her back did most of the moving. In the distance there was a slight disturbance of dust, and she recognized it as her parent's traveling group. She tilted forward and put on a spurt of speed eager to meet them.

She stopped short however, when a thought intruded her brain, projected from her father. _Stay where you are, child. Do not come any closer._ Her father was from the White Star clan, who were very skilled with telepathy.

_Why! I want to show you my new trick!_

_Not a step closer, Vida! Go back to the village. Now!_ That was very unlike her father. He was a loving figure, warm and friendly. He had never simply ordered her. When he stressed his command with his own force of will, she grew angry, resisting the mental push back to the village.

She was very strong to be able to resist a command from a White Star, even though she could only refuse to do it, and not do the opposite of the command instead. When he did not follow up with further force, she thought she had won, and flew forward to greet her mother, and perhaps gloat to her father.

A band of humans were there, one pulling a sword from her mother's stomach. The shimmering blade was stained with inky black blood, making her freeze in shock. The whole train they had been flying with was dead. Some had narrow arrow shafts sprouting from their chests and back, others where still screaming in pain as they clutched the remains of their wings bleeding to death as they had been torn off so violently.

"Hey, you missed one," a human said, gesturing his stained sword toward her direction. "And look, it's just a baby."

"I'll get it," one of his companions gloated, pulling a spare dagger from his belt.

She couldn't move. She didn't even hear them. All she could hear was the constant wail of betrayal screaming in her ears. Her eyes flickered up at the glint of the dagger, and the humans saw with a sense of disturbance that her eyes had gone diamond white with magic. And then she screamed. A defensive scream, instinctively imprinted upon every faerie child at birth. When they were scared, their scream would stun any assailant long enough to run. They grew out of the gift after a certain age, but for Vida it was all she could think of. She screamed so loud the four humans plugged their ears and kneeled in pain. She continued to scream until they stopped shouting, stopped crying, stopped moving. Her family was gone, and so were they.

(PAGE BREAK)

Garyth exploded in an angry fit. "All of them! Every last one of them gone! Why did you have to bring that stupid girl here, anyway!"

Zanth bristled at the insult of Sarah. "That girl saved my life. Twice."

"She's also ruined us both. Do you know how long it will take for me to gain back those profits. Those faeries are halfway to the capital by now, wreaking havoc on _your_ people."

"Look, I know you're mad, but we can sort this out. She acted out of anger."

"No, she acted out of treason!" Garyth quipped. "If I ever find her again, I'll be sure she's hanged."

Zanth stood abruptly in defense of his friend. "Watch it, brother. We may be related, but I am still the heir."

Garyth made a face. "You're only protecting her because she is new and interesting. Tell me, have you ever figured out what her last name is? Why she seems so knowledgeable of languages and life. Do you know I heard her speak to the faeries, in their own language."

"What's wrong with that?"

"No one can speak the Old Language but the faeries, and they are born with that knowledge. Its not something you can learn for it is to complex."

"I still don't see the problem."

He growled, pulling out a map from the desk drawer. They were in his private quarters, and he was one of the few blessed with a fully furnished room of his own. "Look, this is about where your carriage was raided. You said you met Sarah close to there, correct?" Zanth nodded, warily, not sure of his brother's intent. "And you were traveling north, to the bridge. That's here." He pointed to it, still leaving another finger on the starting point. "But you never got there. That would mean your somewhere in this area. Now, look where Fort Motif is on the map."

Zanth's jaw dropped. It was as least fifty miles to the base of the mountain, let alone actually climbing it to the fort. "I don't understand. How is that possible? It would take days to travel that on horseback. She did it in one night."

"Now you see my problem," Garyth said. "It is physically impossible for her to travel that far in one night, especially if she had to carry you, also."

"What are you saying? She's a faerie? I think I would have noticed that before." He flapped his hands in an extremely spastic gesture. "She has no wings."

"I'm not saying she's a faerie, or I would have known. But didn't you come across a faerie in your travels, a faerie who seemed to know your Sarah very well. She is human, but she has joined the rebels."

Zanth ran his fingers through his hair in annoyance. Sarah of the forest, the tiny girl who couldn't even remember her own name, who gazed dreamily into starry skies and asked questions even he couldn't answer. That Sarah, a spy for the faeries. The entire idea of it was ludicrous, absurd. Completely impossible.

But so was carrying him for fifty miles in less than a night. There was definitely some sort of spook magic involved there, and it obviously couldn't be hers.

Finally, he recalled that smile she always gave him, that seemed to be reserved only for him. He would probably never see her again. He was surprised to learn that he would miss her. "I don't believe you. Sarah wouldn't do anything like that." He started to walk out of the room, signifying that the conversation had come to a complete end, when Garyth halted him with a crude remark.

"Three days alone in the forest with the violet-eyed Sarah. It must have been cold, but then I'm sure you had each other to keep warm." He examined his nails, lazily, leaning against the desk. "You must have had such great fun."

Zanth, too angered to even reply, slammed the door hard enough that the thin walls shook in his wrath. With every step he took away from his brother, the more his unnatural confidence in Sarah inched away until, in his room, his original decision was greatly caved.

How had he gotten him such a far distance by herself? It was possible, since she could speak with faeries in their native language, she was able to make a bargain for transportation, but he could have sworn that the faerie had known her personally. Of course, Sarah couldn't remember him. She couldn't remember anything. Did that clear her guiltiness if she _was_ involved with the rebels?

Or maybe she was only pretending to lose her memory. She had been able to speak with the mermaid in it's own language. What if she had just asked it to pretend to sting her, and then acted as if she was hurt and vulnerable?

If that was the truth, she was an incredibly good actress. He had seen the raw frustration that shadowed her face every time she tried to recall something, and the look of anger that was never quite left her eyes; anger for not being able to remember.

He looked down at his hand, the right hand on which he wore his signet ring. His wrist was beginning to blossom with purple bruises from when Sarah had grabbed him in anger. He was surprised, for he could not recall a time when a woman had actually hurt him enough to make a bruise.

Was that proof, then? Or was it just another one of those surprising traits about Sarah that he had begun to enjoy? He curled his hand to a fist, and then loosened it again. God, he missed her already, and she had only been gone for a few hours. He had no reason to miss her either, for they had known each other for less than a week, but he did. The emptiness gnawed away at his stomach, threatening to make his whole body cave with regret.

Obviously she did not feel the same compassion for him. She had left without a briefest glance back. That uprooted a different emotion, acrid and violent. It was this emotion that caused him to double back to his brother's quarters and issue the following decree. "I want all the rebel faeries bound, and put into servitude. Now."

Garyth nodded. That was exactly what he wanted to hear.

**dum dum dum!!! what will happen what will happen. i have no idea cus i havent written it yet. but hey, christmas break is looking promising... only one essay to write, a few outlines and an opneing paragraph for my lit paper. that leaves me loads of time!! btw, for fellow harry potter freaks, next book comes out july 16. my source, barnes and noble news letter (i consider that pretty reliablwe. lol) YAY!**


	5. ch 4 part 1

**okay. so i kno i havent updated this one in a while. i'm sorry! i had to figure out how i wanted to continue the chapters. (in case u havent noticed they are usually incredibly long) it was either u waited a very very _very_ lond time to get the whole chpt or i just give it to you in parts. i decided the parts were better... new character in this chpt!! woohoo!**

Chapter 4

Sarah woke to the sound of pebbles crunching underfoot, but did not want to open her eyes. There was a miserable coldness inside that she did not want to confront; something that was missing. There was a part of her that new what it was. She missed Zanth. She was upset about the fight and her own rash (but completely justified) actions.

A shadow passed before her closed eyes, and she could sense a presence in front of her. She simply turned away, curling deeper into the small niche she had chosen as a shelter.

Then there came the unmistakable hiss of a weapon being unsheathed. That sound seemed to trigger a far away memory, but she never had a chance to place it for she opened her eyes to see a very sharp dagger hovering inches from her throat.

The wielder was one of the men from the fort. She made a face as the cruel irony of the situation struck. She had truly thought, at nearly a two day walk in which she had also walked through the night, she would be far enough from the fort to take a rest. "That knife is very sharp," she commented, dryly.

"All the better to cut you with, my dear," he replied, stoically. She chanced a peak around his very broad shoulder and saw there were several men waiting behind him, all with weapons drawn. "There is a substantial reward from the princes for your return to the fort. They did not specify the condition of your return, so I suggest you come quietly."

Sarah thought a moment. Strangely, there was no fear in her heart, nor was there panic. It seemed like she had had previous life-or-death encounters before her memory loss. Either that or she was just an idiot-child. Whichever it was, she felt a sudden gratefulness to the coolness, knowing that fear would not do in a situation like this. "If you will be paid substantially upon my return, shouldn't I at least make it worth the price?"

"I warn you, peasant," he said, pressing the knife against the exposed skin of her throat. She tried to back away, but the niche's walls were close and there was nowhere to back up to. "Not all of us are as lenient with sass as Prince Zanth. If you don't watch your tongue, I will cut it out."

There was a lot of them. She could try to fight them off, but there was the chance that she didn't know how to fight. Running away was out of the option, considering she was pinned to the side of a stone cave with the only way out blocked by the people she was trying to run away from. That left one of two choices. Simply go with them and hope that Zanth would have enough mercy not to have her hanged (a choice that was shadowed in doubt from their recent argument), or try to stall for time by talking. The second choice held much more appeal. "What would you gain from cutting out my tongue? If you did, I wouldn't be able to confess to the crimes I've been charged with, and then you would have to wait until I died naturally. Do you really wish to withstand me for that long?"

He grabbed her chin roughly, forcing his fingers into the spaces of her jaw. "Do you really wish to test me?" He pressed the knife blade in her mouth, so that if she closed it she would cut her lips.

Using her feet, Sarah pushed him away, wrenching her jaw out of his grasp at the same time. No sooner had she done this did she see the narrowest of routes for her escape. Ignoring her pack with supplies, forgetting about the cloak that had served as a blanket, she bolted out of the niche, barely dodging the rain of hands that followed her. She hastened down the mountain path, pursuit close behind.

The path was precarious, best taken at a slow and steady pace. It was nowhere short of suicide for her, a naturally clumsy girl who wasn't used to her feet, to sprint down it at top speed. Clouds of dust and gravel were picked up in her flee, and still she could hear her attackers coming closer.

Suddenly, from the side a very solid form crashed into her, pushing her off the path and into the scratchy brush. She attempted to scream, but a hand was quickly clamped over her mouth. Blinded with panic, she struggled to free herself, but found that the body that knocked her over was now firmly resting _on top_ of her, preventing any movement.

"If you do not wish to die, say nothing." It was not the voice of any of her pursuers; for that she was glad. What was not so reassuring was the icy plunge that hit her heart the moment he whispered in her ear.

The sound of hurried footsteps came and passed, and not until then did the mysterious man roll away, letting Sarah stand. Immediately, she ran. Savior or not, he was still unknown and she still had a price on her head.

"You are in my debt, little faerie. The First One would not be pleased if you shunned a life-debt so haphazardly."

_First One? Faerie?_ It was causing the finest of inklings of something she should remember. She paused in her flight, screwing her eyes shut to try and capture the elusive memory, but failed. She turned, annoyed, with an exasperated sigh. "What are you talking about?"

"You don't remember me, Vida?" There was a note of cruelty to that statement, as if he knew she couldn't remember and was teasing her for it.

"My name is Sa-." The sentence halted quickly in her throat. Sarah wasn't her real name. It was the name Prince Zanth had given her until she learned her real one.

He smirked, a knowing condescending smirk that was just asking to be struck off. He had a strange look. Everything about him was white, as if his creator had run out of color after he filled in his impossibly dark sapphire eyes. His skin was pale as the snow on the mountain peaks, and his hair was so fine and light, it seemed transparent against the watery sun. He held himself with the rigidity of a noble, but there was something in his eyes that portrayed an inner core of ice.

There were so many questions jangling around in Sarah's head, questions that she could not seem to find the words to. The phrase, 'who am I' offered too much vulnerability, so she changed the statement to "Who are you?"

"I will answer all of your questions in due time, but first I have to get you off this mountain. I suppose you wouldn't wish to fly." He paused, a look of disgust passing over his face as he blatantly stared at the girl in front of him. "The First One must have great plans for you if She didn't take away your powers." Without another word he began to walk away from the path, in a downward direction. Sarah, completely baffled, followed dutifully.

"You called me something," Sarah said, softly, clumsily picking her way through the straggly growth of the mountain. For some reason, walking held no appeal to her. She must have been a noble, for there was no other way to describe the blistered agony her feet were in, as if she had never used them before. "A name. What was it?"

"Vida, last of the Smoke clan. Your brother was Efvern and your mother and father were the leaders against the tyranny of humans, before they were killed." He looked over his shoulder briefly to make sure she was keeping up. "After your brother was killed by a raid, you freed a very large amount of faeries and then disappeared into the forest. No one has seen you since then." He paused, giving her a look of pure detestation. "Perhaps all for the better," he added, more for his own well being than her knowledge.

"Why do you keep talking about humans as if they are different from you or I. We are the same. Two legs, two arms, one head."

"Two wings."

Instinctively she reached back; feeling for the alien yet comforting weight of something she knew wouldn't be there. "I don't have wings, and neither do you."

"I don't have wings because I'm not a faerie. You don't have wings because you chose to hide yourself instead of accepting who you are."

Was this man a complete loony? He spoke without the slightest bit of doubt, and yet what he said was utterly impossible. A faerie? Her! Not only was the idea totally ludicrous, but she would hope she could remember something as important as being a different species. "Who are you anyway?"

"My name is Navonod, and I am your betrothed."

Sarah, who was trying very hard to keep her balance on the precarious crumbling ground beneath her, stumbled and fell quite soundly on her backside, managing to kick up a large amount of gravel and stone in the process. "What!"

Navonod turned slightly, looking over his shoulder with that annoyingly condescending smirk plastered once more on his face. "Don't tell me you don't remember me."

Sarah was beginning to think that even if he _was_ her betrothed, she would never have married him anyway. He was so cold, so arrogant. She found her thoughts drifting to Zanth. Zanth tended to be a little spoiled at times, perhaps a bit stubborn, but he was always so open and warm. There was gentleness about him that- _No! Why am I thinking about Zanth? He's a liar and a racist prat whom I shall never see again!_

Navonod held out his hand to help her up, but Sarah ignored it. She was quite capable of standing up for herself. "Why should I believe you?"

He shrugged, nonchalantly. "Why shouldn't you? I haven't given you a reason not to trust me."

_Nor have you given me a reason _to_ trust you, either,_ she quipped silently. She decided she did not like his company at all, and resolved to conveniently disappear after he lead her off the mountain. She closed her eyes a moment, calling on the mental map that seemed to be imprinted into her brain. She wasn't that far from the capital. Her plan was to find something to trigger her lost memory once she got there.

"Poor little faerie is insulted. Are you going to cry? Please cry, my love, for your tears will bring me mirth."

Sarah's hands clenched, but she made no other reaction. She wondered, mildly, if she could make it all the way down the mountain with this sniveling ghost for company.

"If you cry, I will give you a gift. Something you have been missing," he taunted. He pulled from his pack a familiar black velvet material that Sarah immediately snatched at. "Don't grab. It is very rude."

"That's mine! I lost it in the forest. Give it back." She new every stitch, every fold, every cut in that heavy black cape. It was her only connection to the past she couldn't remember, and created a feeling of safety when she wore it.

"Not until you cry," he repeated, running his fingers through the soft folds. She noticed that despite his arrogant manner, his clothes were very plain. A simple full sleeved shirt, as was style, lacking any embellishments, and no jewelry to speak of. "Such a soft cloak. Beautiful, warm, smooth…"

"Give it back," Sarah said slowly.

"No, I will keep it. You will need a cloak soon, you left yours in the niche. You can't survive on this mountain for the night without it."

"So you wish for me to die."

He laughed, and it seemed to pierce daggers of ice into the tangible waves of dislike around them. "Nothing so dramatic. I am only implying that by keeping the cloak with me, I have collateral over you. I will give it back once the sun sets."

_Then I shall not let you take it back,_ she thought smugly. She could live one day with this cruel ghost-creature. It was strange, but around him she felt the sudden need to hide. Flipping the tail of her braided hair over her shoulder, she began to unwind the tight plait, letting the inky waves fall loose around her face, replacing the cloak's purpose of security.

Navonod reached out, picking up a lock of hair with his white fingers and tickling it playfully across his own cheek. "Poor Vida. She must hide her horrible face in shame. That horrible ugly gray skin that mottles and scorches the eyes. Teeny little bones and arrowed face. I would hide, too. I wish for you to cry. Let me see your face more disgustingly horribly-"

"Quiet!" Sarah yelped, swinging her hand to hit his face. He caught her wrist in midair, forcing her palm upward and tracing his white fingers along the skin.

"Do you mean to strike me?" he asked softly, a dazed, dreamy look glazing his dark eyes. "You must be much faster than that." His fingers inched across her wrist, to find her pulse. "Feel how fast your blood rushes. You are either very angry or very frightened." Sarah tried to wrench her hand back, but his grip was like iron. He pulled her hand upward, placing her fingers to his cold lips. Sarah made a mistake, and searched his deep unnerving blue eyes in question. She found herself lost in his intense stare, submitting to the pressure on her hand without fight.

He bit her the gray tip of her index finger, and the sharp shock of pain jolted her senses. "Let me go!"

He examined the fingertip, watching the blood well up on the cut. "Not yet, my love. Look." He angled her hand so she could see it, but what she saw was not- right. Her blood was black. Black as oil, black as night. Fathomlessly, impenetrably _black_! "Now watch. Watch, you sorry imposter, and see what you have hidden from. You are so cold, it will take a moment, but look as it heals. Do you see! Do you see the skin knitting back together as if days of healing was stuffed into these last few seconds. Now who is mad?"

Sarah wrenched her hand away, tears glinting harshly in her eyes. "Leave me alone!" She felt dirty, exposed, vulnerable. He had just shown her a foul trait about herself that should be hidden. He had known it as if he had known her for her entire life, and yet she could not recall something so important. She dropped her head at a sharp downward angle, too ashamed to look up and bear the stare of the world.

Navonod reached out and brushed the inky curtain of hair from her face, lifting her chin up to force her gaze upwards. His touch was so cold, so bone chillingly, heart-stopping cold, it took all of her will power to not push him away. "What is the last thing you remember?"

He tried to entrance her with the fathomless gaze once more, but this time she was prepared. Viciously, she stomped on his foot. He cursed in pain, lifting the damaged appendage in anger, but by then, Sarah had already continued down the mountain path.

"Your talk is poison and ice, and I don't believe a word of it," she called over her shoulder.

She wasn't exactly sure what happened next. One moment she could see Navonod clearly behind her, and the next she found herself caught up in his possessive embrace, his lips softly brushing the exposed skin of her neck. Her breath caught in her throat from fear. Give her swords, give her arrows. But this? This was just too much.

"If you don't believe me," he whispered, titling her head back and running his pale hands through her unbound hair. "Then let me show you."

She did not wish to give into fear, not in front of this creature. So quite simply, she spoke the word that would change her life. "Fine."

He laughed, and released her, still keeping a firm grip on her hand. "You could probably do this spell better than I could," he said, calmly. He closed his eyes a moment, and when he opened them they glowed a harsh unearthly white. There was a flash and then both were flung into impenetrable nothingness.

**hehehe! for those of you who are having trouble envisioning Navonod, think Draco Malfoy times fifteen thousand::swoon::. isn't he the perfect little slime ball! anywho, i kno there is major fluffiness in this chpt. what can i say, i'm a hopeless ball of fluff. hehehe. **

**other than that, you kno the drill. read and review, all flames welcome. suggestions are also appreciated. email any questions or anything (i think i already metnioned that i love getting mail)... blah blah blah. **

**o yea. next part i switch back to zanth. u didnt think i forgot about him did you? o well, back to work for me**


	6. ch 4 part 2

**aren't i such a nice person! i only updated yesterday and i'm going to update again. ok, this part is rly short, i kno. it might seem a little rushed but thats because i wanted to get to the part with Vida already. anyway... enjoy! (o yea, thank flying high808 for the quick update)**

Chapter 4. Part 2

"Is there some kind of short cut for me to the capital?" Zanth asked his brother. "I feel like I should be there."

Garyth shrugged. "The shipment of silver crowns came in to control the faeries. You could always order one of them to set up a transport spell for you. It would be child's play for any of the older creatures."

Zanth hesitated. He recalled how violently Sarah reacted to the treatment of the faeries. Quickly, he brushed the thought away. He was crown prince of Dorash, soon to be its king. He did not have time for second thoughts. "That's an excellent idea, Garyth."

He smiled up from his study of some chart or other. "Have one of the servants get a faerie for you."

Barely ten minutes later, Zanth pacing in his quarters, a male faerie entered the room quite calmly, his forehead glittering with the delicate silver band that rested on top of it. The prince had learned quite a bit in the week since being attacked on the road by faeries. He knew that there was a dramatic difference between the two different kinds of faeries that he had met. The day faeries, with sun tanned skin and golden blond hair, were physically strong. Their powers in magic were mainly used for frontal assaults in war and attacks. The night faeries were slightly more rare. Their skin was odd, a purple that ranged to shades as deep as plum to the softest hues of almost gray. Usually their hair was as black as their eyes, but a hybrid of different clans sometimes formed ash blond hair and violet eyes. Their skills were deadly, but in a different way than their daylight cousins.

"Hello," Zanth greeted the faerie, polite out of habit. "What is your name?"

He seemed to struggle with himself, biting the inside of his mouth to resist speaking. "Neef," he replied finally.

"And how did you come here, Neef?"

He glared. "The nymphs in the forest gave away our position to the humans."

"Our?" Zanth questioned.

Neef swallowed hard, sweat beading on his forehead as he resisted the command of the silver. "Yes, I headed a team of rebels. We were recuperating in the forest from a recent blow of- No!" He wrenched at the silver on his forehead, but it was designed to weld to his skin, only to be removed by a human. "We were the last real threat to the humans. Be grateful, for you have officially won."

Zanth was awestruck. He was under the impression that the faeries _enjoyed_ servitude. What was it that Thengorn told him? Dorash offered them safe haven in return for uses of their magic. It was their own fault that they went against their word and began to rebel! If hey hadn't, there would be no need to bind them with silver. "You were the only leader of this rebellion?" Zanth thought it an apt question. If any of the other leaders were still out and around, they might have the resources to restart yet another rebellion.

The faerie seemed to have given up fighting, and answered simply and coldly, his opaque wings fluttering in anger. "No. The Smoke clan usually leads us, for they are the most powerful. You killed the two elders of that clan during an ambush after peace negotiations years ago. Their son, Efvern, seconded their command, but used the last door instead."

"The last door?"

"A night faerie cannot be captured. Their powers are too great, and they know too much. A Smoke on the humans' side would be deadly. The last door is to rejoin the First One in the skies."

Zanth remembered that the First One was the name for the mother goddess of faeries and nodded. In other terms, Efvern had committed suicide. "And that was it? There were no other siblings of the Smoke clan that could have taken command?"

"No, they also had a daughter, Vida. She was once our top spy, but she went mad with her brother's death."

"And were is she now?" Zanth prodded.

If possible, Neef's eyes glazed over with even more ice. "She is dead!"

"You mean she rejoined the First One?" Zanth corrected, slightly confused.

"No, I mean she is dead. Do you only wish to question me, or do you actually want something?"

Zanth, suddenly remembering his original reason for calling the faerie, nodded. "Yes, I need a transport spell to the capitol. Now, if you please."

"And if I don't?" the faerie asked.

Zanth shrugged. "Then I suppose I will have to call someone else." He ignored the faerie's surprise, and waited for his decision.

"I suppose you wish to go to the palace?" When Zanth nodded, Neef closed his eyes, plunging into his magic. "This will be very uncomfortable for a human," he stated.

Zanth did not have time to question this strange statement before he felt something pull him through miles and miles of air at an insane speed. His stomach churned, his head spun, and just when he thought he would have preferred borrowing a horse and riding to the capitol, the world stopped. He was dropped right in his old room in the palace. Home sweet home.

**yea its a pretty blah part. nothing rly happening.lots of action in the next part tho! vida FINALLY gets her memory back!!! woohoo! thanks for all the reviews... o and thanks for the help on The Last, Wynnefred Blaire. I promise i'll update that soon...**


	7. ch 4 part 3

**be happy evry1. cus i have posted this chpt and taken it off about three times cus i keep forgetting to put the page breaks on it. grr! u'll regret it if i don't. worked all afternoon on this, so be grateful too. (hehe. anastasia!!)**

Chapter 4 part 3

Sarah was not sure where they were, but there was something about it that nagged the back of her mind incessantly. She wanted to remember this, there was something about it that she should remember, but her mind wouldn't let her.

Navonod had not loosened his grip around her wrist. She could feel bruises beginning to blossom around his fingertips, but she refused to wince to show her displeasure. "Careful," he said, as he pushed open the door of an abandoned warehouse. "The floor is very weak. Oh, I suggest you hold your breath."

Sarah, very confused, said nothing. She had no choice but to follow him into the melancholy building.

She wished she had followed his advice and held her breath. The air was rank with the putrid scent of decay. The walls and floor were all darkened with black liquid, as dark as her own blood. Her stomach churned uncomfortably; she barely resisted the urge to vomit. "What is all this?"

Navonod gave a slow smile. "Go upstairs, and look in the room at the end of the hall. There is something there that will jog your memory."

She searched his eyes for a sign of malcontent, but other than his usual condescending glare, there was none. Gingerly, she took the first step. It cracked ominously under her weight, a slight cloud of dust choking the disturbed air.

She didn't trust Navonod, not in the least. Through the musty air she could see his annoying smirk at the base of the stairs, daring her to continue and at the same time telling her there was no way she could. Oh, how she hated him. Betrothed or not, there was no way she could withstand his presence much longer.

As she took another tentative step, the wood beneath her feet giving a disgruntled groan as she did so, it occurred to her that she could simply push Navonod out of the way and take her chances in the city. It was an incredibly tempting idea, but not more tempting that finding out what was in the room at the end of the hall. She definitely remembered this building. She had been here before, of that she was certain.

Taking one last glance back, she hurried up the rest of the stairs.

(PAGE BREAK)

Zanth had only been home for an hour, enough time to reacquaint himself with the household and greet his surrogate father and steward of the throne, Thengorn, before he was called to work.

"We were informed by an anonymous source that a free faerie resides in the warehouse," Thengorn informed the prince. "Perhaps you would like to join the Guard and see how we handle these rebellions. It will be excellent practice for when you take the throne."

Zanth twirled the signet ring on his finger with his thumb. He had been distracted and preoccupied since arriving, his thoughts always drifting back to a certain girl with violet eyes. He welcomed the business as something to get his mind off the past. "Of course. I will have someone saddle my horse right now."

(PAGE BREAK)

Sarah hesitated in front of the door. The smell was stronger here, invading her nose and tongue with a thick disgusting crawl. Her throat burned with the sickeningly sweet reek, and somewhere, from the furthest depths of her memory, she recalled smiling. Smiling suppressed the gag reflex and resisted the urge to vomit. She wasn't in the best mood to smile, but she didn't want to vomit with Navonod just downstairs either. Heaven help her, she would smile till her face fell off if she had to.

She pushed the door open, took one look at what it contained… and heaved.

There was an odd wailing in her ears. A strange blood-curdling heart-stopping scream that seemed to go on forever. Her brother! She remembered! She remembered everything!

Her brother was dead. Efvern, sweet kind Efvern who had to grow up faster than Vida to allow his little sister a little more childhood. She was a killer. There was never a loving Sarah of the forest. She had been Vida Smoke, cold, heartless and having no regrets. Phell… the child she had killed. A fellow faerie who had done nothing than believe there was a life better than running and hiding. Neef, her best friend! He had betrayed her, but he thought she was a _lejdee._ She had changed into the creature that the faeries hated most to protect her wings, what they would no doubt take if she had remained.

She wasn't a _lejdee_! Thank the First One, she wasn't a _lejdee_. That frightening darkness that clawed to the surface whenever she felt anger or fear… it was her magic. And it was far from being gone.

So many emotions flooded her body at once. Fear, relief, disgust, joy, hate… she was sick with it. The wailing continued, until a ghost white hand pressed against her mouth and she realized it was she that was screaming.

"Now do you see, little faerie? Do you see the truth?" Navonod asked her.

Navonod! She remembered him. He was a hybrid, half ice-person and half day faerie. He had the powers of ice without the constriction of staying on the mountain. And yes, they were betrothed. Since birth they had been promised to marry, and since childhood, they hated each other.

"Stop pretending. You are not human. Change back, you have the power."

Vida was already beginning the transformation. She closed her eyes, plunging into the darkness within herself and sighing in happiness has she did so. It was like meeting an old friend from childhood. It brought back all the sweet, blissful days of ignorance and safe starry nights.

When she opened her eyes, she could feel several changes about herself. For one she was a little shorter and slightly thinner, her body now being light enough to fly. She took a glance at her hands, and found them a delightfully dark purple in color. Gingerly, she removed the fur-lined tunic that Garyth had given her. Her original shirt with the dramatically low back now served a greater purpose than fashion. It allowed her wings to lay right, in a smoky gray puddle spilling under her hair.

"Beautiful," Navonod commented, softly, reaching out to stroke the silvery wings. She glared at him, black eyes sparking in anger. It was very much against any form of etiquette to touch another faeries' wings. It simply wasn't done. Navonod, seeing that she remembered that certain bit of information, drew his hand away, if not a little reluctantly.

Vida was silent a moment, still to much information bombarding her head to voice any questions. She looked up to ask Navonod how he had known who she was, to find that he had disappeared. She shrugged. It mattered little to her that he left, for she had hated him ever since she had frozen the surface of the lake she was swimming in… while she was still underwater. It had been an awkward experience for both of them, Vida who had never used her powers before and Navonod who was just beginning to discover what his were capable of. Once Vida managed to break the ice over her head with her magic, she used her powers to hang him upside down from Dead Man's Cliff, levitating him and dropping him with remarkable accuracy for a toddler. Needless to say, they had never much liked each other since then.

Vida was jolted from her memories by the door suddenly slamming open. She looked up, and gave a small gasp of surprise as the Palace Guard filled the room, all drawing swords.

She did not waste time in staring. Instantly, she was on her feet, darting for the door. There was a time when she would have heartlessly killed each person in the room, but despite her capabilities, she did not think she could do it anymore. Though they were human, they were only following orders. She could hardly end their lives just for that. She didn't dare use her magic either. The First One had been kind with her thus far, but she was not sure just how far she could push her luck before She grew angry.

(PAGE BREAK)

Zanth entered the room at the end of the stairs with the rest of the guard, pulling his shirt over his nose to dilute the vile smell. As promised by the strange man downstairs, a faerie was in the room, kneeling at a corpse's side, but with a half smile on her face, as if recalling something amusing.

He didn't know what to expect. He knew most faeries were skilled fighters, and since this was a night faerie she could probably have them all seeing their worse nightmares with a blink. What he did not expect was for the creature to try to run without a fight. She bolted for the door, but Zanth blocked her path, pushing her back into the room.

Her eyes darted around the room, looking for the best escape. Her wings fluttered, and she tried once more to get out the door, this time flying over Zanth's head. Thankfully, one of the guards grabbed her feet as she attempted to fly, bringing her down in an instant.

"Reh'tils shunamey koor!" she cursed, violently. "Don't make me hurt you."

"Don't worry, we won't," the guard who grounded her replied. He pulled from his pocket the silver crown that would bind her, and her eyes widened in fear. She kicked her feet to free them, (one of them just so happened to hit her attacker on the nose) and crawled on her knees, once more en route to the door.

Another guard, noticing her escape, kicked her roughly in the ribs. She gasped, her eyes glowing white a moment, but immediately dying back down to the original black. Zanth was baffled. Not only were his guards using an excessive amount of force for one faerie that wouldn't even fight back, but the girl was capable of using magic. Why wouldn't she?

(PAGE BREAK)

The boot in her ribs all but caused her to lose control. Gritting her teeth, she forced the magic back down, refusing to use it after being pardoned by the First One so many times before. Paying careful mind to her wings, she rolled on her back, shoving her heel into the face of yet another guard (how many were there! She was too panicked to count), in the same motion kicking the crown out of his hands.

Jumping to her feet, she headed for the door once more. Whoever had blocked her path before was surprisingly gentle, all things considered. Perhaps she could push him away and run fast enough to find a window. After that, she was gone. No more rebellions for her. She would be happy to live out the remainder of her immortal life hiding in the forests.

The guards had formed a circle around her. It was becoming a game, a game that they enjoyed. A push from one man would send her straight into the fist of another. She avoided all blows possible, but she was quickly beginning to tire.

A steel toed boot hit her ribs, causing her to double over. It was seconded by a blow to the back of the knees, sending her to all fours, gasping in pain.

She did not have the strength to continue fighting. Not without magic. But they seemed to have forgotten about the crown anyway, to intent on the game of torturing the faerie freak.

That was when it happened. With no regard to the rules of game, someone viciously grabbed her wings. She screamed, the pain being greater than any pressure point on a human body. He tugged at it, and she stumbled to her feet, eyes watering in agony. Her hair fell before her face, and through eyes blurred with pain she saw him. Zanth!

"Zanth! Its me! Please, Zanth, don't you remember me." _He doesn't recognize you, you fool_, she scolded herself. Whoever gripped her wings took a particularly ruthless yank, causing her to cry out. "Its Sarah! By the First One, please help me!"

(PAGE BREAK)

He had about enough of this little game. It was becoming ridiculous. Once he grabbed her wings, he was about to call it off. And then, she said his name.

"Zanth! Its me! Please, Zanth don't you remember me?" His voice caught in his throat. Of course the faerie would know who he was, everyone knew who he was. And it wasn't surprising that she spoke his language so well either, that was one of the faeries many gifts. It was that look she gave him, that pleading begging look that all but ripped his heart out of his chest. She looked like Sarah.

That was impossible though. Sarah was human!

"Its Sarah! By the First One, please help me!"

No. Absolutely not. Sarah was gone, somewhere in the forest, where she belonged. This was simply night faerie trickery. She had looked into his mind and read the name that stood out the most. All the same, this game had gone on long enough. He picked up the discarded band of silver, wrought with onyx stones, and took a step forward. The guard who held her wings kept her still.

He had never seen someone look more betrayed. "No," she whispered, tears spilling down her dark skin. "Please Zanth, don't do this. You can't!"

Hardening his heart, he placed the band across her forehead. Immediately, her head threw back, fighting off the control of the silver. It seemed that she had no energy left to fight, for as he ordered the guard to release her, she slackened to the floor. Not unconscious, but seemingly with no soul at all.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: (sry. bold font won't work) ook, very dramatic chapter. waah boo hoo. ::tear tear:: i acutally laughed through this whole chpt cus all i could envision was navonod and vida as kids... poor parents!!

updates will be a while forth in coming. christmas vaca ends today and tis the season for midterms and SATs and SAT II. in other words, all fredom is gone, all hope is lost and i am stuck in a never ending world of impenatrable daylight

o yea. to those reading The Last, no its not over. it was going to be over... it really was, but wynnefred blaire gave me some help at pushing over dominos (thanks meris!!!). i'll try get that updated quick...


	8. ch 5 part 1

**woohoo! snow day! and i finished all my work. yay! that means u guys get the next chapter. waring! this chapter is LOADED with fluff. lets just say that garyth is a little jelous...**

Chapter 5 part 1

In all fairness, Vida couldn't actually say she was being treated poorly. She had gotten a bath and new clothes, and the room she was in now was magnificent. The bed that she now rested on had thick blankets and a cascading canopy overhead. There was a large window to let in the sunlight and several carpets to soften the hardwood floor. In fact, after that first beating to get her crowned, she had been treated like nobility.

She couldn't say the same for the other faeries in servitude. She could feel their emotions of despair and hate crawling against her skin, counting down the days until some sort of savior appeared. They were all hungry, cold and miserable, wanting nothing more than their own free will.

Vida didn't know why she was being treated so differently. It couldn't have anything to do with Zanth. She halted that thought the moment it entered her brain. She did not want to think about Zanth ever again, for it had been he who had crowned her. He who stole her freedom.

She heard the door open, and she gave a groan of annoyance, rolling onto her side and feigning sleep. There was the possibility that whoever had just entered would leave her alone once they saw her sleeping. A slim chance, but a chance all the same.

Apparently, she was to have no such luck. A hand fell on her shoulder and pushed her flat on her back. She opened her eyes to see Garyth. "Do you wish to gloat?" Vida asked, using her own faerie language because she knew it would annoy him.

"I don't know what you said, but I see that look you are giving me now." He made a sound that was halfway between exasperation and disgust. "Change into your human form. I cannot stand the sight of that purple skin."

Vida's eyes widened, and she sat up straight. "How did you know it was me?" she asked in his language, at the same time changing into the human, Sarah. It was a direct order and she could not disobey.

He smiled, but did not reply. "Imagine my surprise, when I learned that Zanth's precious Sarah of the forest was actually the infamous Vida Smoke in disguise." He reached out, stroking her face. She glared, jerking her head out of the way. He simply shrugged. "He loves you, you know. He can't stop thinking about you. He can't eat, can't sleep. All he can think of is you and your violet eyes."

"Why are you telling me this?" she asked coldly. She refused to believe him, simply because she was too hurt to chance such a leap.

He trapped her head in his hands and kissed her lips suddenly. Vida, shocked, pulled back with a growl. "What are you doing!"

"Do not resist me!" he commanded, voice shaking in anger, but at the same time, gently tracing her bare neck with his fingertips.

She plunged into her magic, stirring it up to make her skin icy cold to the touch (a trick she had learned from Navonod ages ago), but the moment she tried to direct it, she hit what felt like a brick wall, halting her progression. Damn silver! She hoped he wouldn't try to kiss her again, because, due to his last command, she would have to kiss him back. She would rather kiss a viper.

He ensnared her lips with his, and she found herself kissing him back. "More," he breathed, softly, barely breaking the contact. It was a command and she followed it, parting her lips further and entangling herself within his solid arms.

"More," he repeated, running his hands over the bare skin on her back. She winced in disgust and deepened the kiss, moving with him as his lips fiercely attacked her own. A tilt of the head here, a caress of the back of the neck there. He was in her very head, ordering her to do what she had no will to refuse. She felt like dirt. No, worse. She felt like an oil-vein. A whore, a play-toy, an object! She was his amusement. She was his passion.

"More," he said once more. "Make me feel like Zanth." He pressed her down, his lips sliding across her throat. She made an annoyed face to the ceiling, grimacing as he fingered the plait from her hair, running his fingers through the silky waves.

_Zanth_? The pin finally dropped, and she surprised herself with a laugh. Garyth, shocked, paused a moment, probing her newly violet eyes with question.

"This amuses you?" he asked.

"You are jealous! That is why you went through all of this. You want to see Zanth suffer." Saying it aloud made it all the more amusing, and she laughed even harder.

His weight on top of her was suffocating, reminding her more and more that she had control of absolutely nothing. Trapped within her own body, slave to any human who bore the royal signet ring, her heart screamed. Outwardly, she remained calm, using her wits to distract the prince long enough for him to forget his lust. Thankfully, Garyth sat up and began to pace the room.

"And why shouldn't I be? Stupid faerie-girl, with your stupid powers. You wouldn't know what its like. Always being seconded by a brother that's always a little taller, a little smarter, a little handsomer than you are. He took everything I ever wanted. This time, I'll take something of his."

The silver on her forehead did not prevent her from speaking her mind unless someone told her not to. She did not hesitate to speak. "How would this make it any better? It makes you lower, enhancing the differences between you. By doing something so… vile you have made Zanth just seem more perfect, more flawless. He would never try to do something like that to me."

He halted his pace to give her a look. "Not if he knew you were a faerie. He didn't seem to have any trepidations against crowning Vida with silver, now did he?"

She gave him an equally vile look and stood up. "It is not any of my business anyway, your _highness._" The title was dripping with sarcasm. "I'm just saying that if you hate your brother for always being better than you, wouldn't it make sense to stop being better than he, and simply try to be you."

He opened his mouth, closed it, then opened it again. The result made him look like a fish. Finally, he simply gave a growl, turned on his heel and left the room, slamming the door behind him.

Vida grinned. There was more than one way to solve a problem.

**dum dee dum! tell me if this chapter was too cheesy! its the first time i've written a scene that...er... intense. if it was too much, i'll down play it. i kno i haven't updated The Last in a whole two weeks (usually i update every other day!) but I've been focusing on this story. i promise, i'll get to it soon.**

**o yea... more reviews. look how fast i've been updating. sometimes within the same hour of the last update! that deserves more reviews...**


	9. ch 5 part 2

**hers the next (and last) part of chapter 5. it'll prolly be a while till the next update cus i need to wait to figure out a few of my plot twists. i have a lot of conflicts in here, and none of them are solved yet!**

chapter 5 part 2

Thengorn waited until Garyth left the room before he approached him. "What do you think of the new faerie?"

Garyth stiffened visibly, for the steward did not acknowledge the younger brother often. "I think I don't understand why she is being treated so differently, like she is noble."

"Well, faeries don't believe in rank of society like we do, but if they did, she would surely rank high on their social scale. As the last of the Smoke clan, her powers could give us endless possibilities."

Something seemed to be irking Garyth. He seemed hurt and distracted, and Thengorn noted the harsh glisten of tears in his eyes. "What is your point, my lord?"

He raised his hands in defeat. "Nothing at all. Run along and amuse yourself in some way." Quickly, the prince scampered off. Just as he turned the corner, an icy breeze stirred the hanging tapestries. Navonod suddenly appeared, looking regal in a pale shirt, offset by a sapphire blue coat of gold embroidered satin. He beckoned Thengorn away from listening distance of the faerie.

"I take it you are pleased?" he asked, pleasurably.

Thengorn smiled, making his face seem even more unusually wide. "And why should I not be. You executed your task wonderfully." He reached into his long robes, and pulled a velvet purse from his sleeve. It clinked heavily as it fell into Navonod's palm. "It has been a pleasure doing business with you."

Navonod tucked the change purse safely within his own coat. "Remember the rest of our bargain," he reminded. "Do what you want with her, but keep her alive. I want her back."

"Of course," Thengorn said, laughing happily. It was a huge weight off his chest now that he had a faerie that could execute his plan. "When do you want her back?"

Navonod reached out, closing a colorless hand around Thengorn's throat. Instantly, the soft tissue within his mouth began to freeze, inching down his throat causing him to choke for air. "One week. Whatever you must do, let it be done in that time. Come the sunset of the seventh day, I will be here, and she will leave."

Thengorn nodded hurriedly, then gasped for air as Navonod released him. Before he could regain his breath, the ice-person had disappeared and Garyth appeared from the shadows.

"I heard everything," he stated. "What are you planning?"

"Keep your nose in your own business, boy, before I cut it off."

Garyth shrugged, unabashed. "I know some things about Vida Smoke that might interest you, and might not. But I wouldn't know if I don't know what's going on."

Thengorn eyed the young prince, feeling a new respect for him. Mentally, he weighed his chances and trade offs, finally coming to a decision. He told Garyth his plans, and slowly, the young prince smiled.

"I can help you. You see, Vida Smoke is in fact Sarah. The very same Sarah that saved Zanth's life."

(PAGE BREAK)

Vida stared at herself in the mirror, gray skin melting back into an unusual purple, eyes mixing like milk in coffee as they swirled from glittering violet to unfathomable black. She was betrayed, broken, helpless… she had lost.

Surprisingly, she felt no anger toward Navonod. Now that she had access to her full memory, she knew she should have expected something like that. Throughout the war, they had made severe and deadly trade-offs with each other. Vida had once sold him and his ice powers out to get a piece of information that saved hundreds of faerie lives. They always created a loophole, though. That was the rule. That was how their relationship of loathing and disgust had grown to fire up their dual forces. If one needed to sell out the other, they always needed to leave an open door. It as usually up to the subject to find the door, but there was an occasional instant when the catalyst would actually extend a hand to help.

What she did feel was anger for Zanth. Fierce, unquenchable, consuming rage for the prince she had begun to care for. The prince who had recognized her and still captured her with silver. And she knew he recognized her. She was able to sense it with her powers, as tangible as a winter breeze or a hungry stomach. She could feel it. She hated him for bringing her here, for wearing the signet ring that would control her, for professing his love to Sarah but not to Vida. Even more than she herself wanted to die, she wanted to kill him. She wanted to see him suffer.

This was no life for a faerie. A world of smooth silks and glittering jewels was the materialistic life the humans sought after. She wanted nothing but trees to hide her sorrows, and a night sky to wrap her in its velvet embrace. The only jewels she craved were the diamonds of the sky, so they could caress her wings as she flew among them, higher and higher until she could touch them with an outstretched hand. And she wanted Zanth. However much it killed her pride to admit it, she wanted Zanth to love Vida Smoke of the night faeries as much as he loved the nameless Sarah of the forest. She wanted him to love her as much as she loved him.

"That bastard," she cursed out loud in faerie-tongue. Her eyes caught her own gaze in the mirror, and she felt a familiar stab of self-loathing claw deep into her gut. What was so wrong with having purple skin and dark wings? Why was it so evil to have powers if she only used them for good? Was it really that sinful if she wanted nothing but a peaceful home and a family she could cry over? She picked up a gold wrought candlestick that rested on a shelf below the mirror and slammed in into the silver surface, breaking it into a thousand pieces. The shards dug into the spaces of her knuckles, welling up with inky black blood and staining her skin. She dropped the candlestick, hands trembling with anger and crumbled to her knees, breathing deep, resisting the urge to lose control.

She closed her eyes, feeling the sting of cuts on her hands lessen as the skin knitted together once more, healing without even the command from herself. No sooner had she wiped the extra blood from her hand did the door open once more. Thengorn entered.

"Bow, oil-vein. Address me by my title."

She had stood to be eye level with Thengorn, but the moment he spoke the command her knees buckled as she knelt before him, her head tipped downward. "I am yours to command, my lord."

His ruddy face split into a grin. "Excellent. Now, I have you for only a week. I must make that week count."

The curtain of hair hiding her face hid the disgusted expression she made. "What is your will, master?" So that was the loophole Navonod had made. At least she could look forward to taking off the silver headband after the week was up.

"My orders are simple. You are to serve Prince Zanth in any way he wishes. You are not to tell him anything of your past, of your previous meeting with him. Use your night powers to probe his mind. Tell me what woman he is dreaming about. I want specifics in appearance, personality, traits, flaws…"

"Why?"

He lifted a foot and kicked her hard in the ribs. She exhaled before the strike hit so she wouldn't be lost for breath. It didn't make it hurt any less. "Do not question me. Go to his quarters now."

Jerkily, she stood and walked to the appointed room.

(PAGE BREAK)

Zanth was reading a book on philosophy at his desk, his feet propped up lazily on the edge. Absently, he thumbed through the pages, but wasn't really concentrating on it. He couldn't get his head out of the past, on memories that were best left dead.

The door opened and in entered a night faerie. She was a delicate thing, less than five feet in height with slender limbs and wide black eyes. On her forehead glittered the standard silver and onyx crown of servitude, but she was dressed very well. The low backed shirt that was necessity for faeries to wear was made of smooth black silk, tightly fitted and embroidered with silver flowers. The skirt she wore was also clearly faerie-fashion, a silver sarong tied at the waste. Beneath it was a gauzy black skirt.

She stood there a moment, seeming to fight with herself as she closed the door behind her. Finally, she dropped to her knees and touched her forehead to the flagstone floor. "My prince, I am yours to command."

Zanth blinked in surprise, his feet dropping from the desk in shock. He was used to people bowing for him, he was a prince after all, but the offer she spoke was slightly unnerving. Nervously, he twirled his signet ring on his index finger, and ushered the faerie to rise. "Please, don't bow on my account. I get enough of that from the court. What do you need?"

She stood, and her wings fluttered slightly behind her, as if from indignation. "I need nothing but…" she growled, scratching at the headband, then calmed instantly. "Master Thengorn told me to come to your quarters and help you with anything I could."

Zanth shrugged and took a quick look around the room. It was a little messy, but he liked it better that way anyway. He had already eaten and wasn't really in the mood to have this girl get him a snack. He didn't really want anything. _Except Sarah_, the irritating voice in his head commented. "I don't know. I don't really need anything. You could leave if you want."

She bit her lip. "If you please, your highness, my orders were to serve you. I don't wish to give anyone a reason to be… upset with me." Her head angled downward, hiding her face behind a curtain of hair.

The pin suddenly dropped. "You are the faerie, Vida Smoke."

"I am, sir."

There was no violence or resistance in her voice. Of that, he was shocked. "Do you want to be here?"

She looked up, meeting his gaze steadily. There was a pleading look in her eyes, as if she had been fighting for so long that all she wanted to do was stop. Something else was there too, something that tickled his memory. "Yes," she whispered softly.

"Well, sit down then. You'll only wear your feet out standing for so long." He gestured to another chair across the room. She held out a hand and it floated to set itself next to Zanth. Nervously, she sat in it. "Thengorn sent you to me to help me with anything I need. Right now, all I need is a friend. Someone I could confide in. Can I trust you with that?"

"Yes, your highness," she whispered, hands gripping the arms of the chairs in a white-knuckled grip.

"I met a girl on my way to the capital. Her name was Sarah. She looks a lot like you, actually. She was an interesting girl."

"What happened to her, your highness?"

He shrugged. "We got in a disagreement. She was very outspoken in her defense of the faeries. Then, all of a sudden, she just left. She saved my life, you know. I still can't figure out how. It was such a long distance to walk…" he continued to ramble, but Vida didn't seem to mind. In fact, she was rapt with attention, barely blinking. It looked as if she wanted to tell him something. "But I've been talking for a while. What of you? Do you have any stories for me? A faerie friend or something?" She was silent. "You don't have to be afraid to speak, you know. I won't mind. In fact, faerie's voices are very melodic to listen to. Quite soothing."

"I'm not afraid," she stated. "And I don't have any faerie-friends. I used to, before the war, but it changed us too much. I was put to work as a spy when I was barely ten years old."

"How old are you now?"

She shrugged her shoulders. "Faeries live a very long time. I'm not exactly sure how old I am. It doesn't serve much purpose to keep track when you know you will die soon, anyway." He was surprised when a tear fell down her cheek, dropping onto her lap unchecked. "I don't have a family. They were all killed, either in the war or the rebellion."

He blinked. "Vida, I'm so sorry."

"Are you? It was your war that caused their death. Faeries never believed in fighting before you began to take our forests and our homes." She glanced over to the cluttered desk and read the title of the forgotten book out loud. "Did you actually read that?"

"Yes, its one of my favorites," Zanth replied. He was about to explain the philosophical contents when Vida interrupted him.

"I thought that the hypothesis was sound, but the writing style was unusually abrupt for the subject. I mean, if its all about the science of love, shouldn't it at least be eloquently stated?"

Zanth laughed outright. This girl had no fear of speaking her mind that was for sure. "You read human books?"

She smiled. He realized that he liked her smile a lot. It grew slowly across her face, melting her expression from cool and detached to warm and friendly. There was a time when she could have smiled like this whenever she wanted, but not now that she was bound servant to the royal family. _And guess who bound her_, the annoying voice interjected again. "Of course I read human books. We don't write any of our own. Well, besides the First One's teachings, but they are mostly memorized anyway."

"Why don't you write any of your own books?"

She leaned forward, the smile not leaving her face. "The same reason you turn your signet ring to the inside of your palm so no one can see it. We prefer to keep our existence as non-thwarting and un-involved as possible."

For hours they sat up and talked. The only awkward moment was when Zanth lighted a candle to illuminate the darkened room. Vida yelped and shielded her eyes, explaining that her eyes were very light sensitive at night. He vaguely recalled Sarah saying something along those lines, and snuffed out the candle.

Still the hours ticked by, and Zanth found that he was happier now than he had been since Sarah left. Vida was such an interesting creature, and he never ran out of questions for her, all of which she was happy to answer.

After a while, Vida dozed off in the wooden chair, her head lolling awkwardly on her shoulders. Zanth gazed sleepily at her sprawled form. Her hair was absently tossed to one side and her dark, silvery wings rested over the back of the chair. She stirred slightly, trying to make herself more comfortable, but to no avail.

Carefully, taking mind not to wake her, Zanth lifted up the faerie, marveling at how impossibly light she was, and rested her lightly on his own bed, taking care not to crush her wings. Half asleep, he lay beside her, lulled to dreams by the steady beating of her heart.

(PAGE BREAK)

Vida knew she should open her eyes, but for the life of her she could not make herself do it. She felt so safe, happy… and she had been having the best dream of her life. There was absolutely no reason to wake up.

She felt someone stir beside her. She was sleeping on her side, and someone was molded behind her. Now _that_ was a reason to wake up.

Opening her eyes, she carefully pushed herself up, paying careful attention not to disturb whoever was beside her. His arm was draped over her waist and, feeling her stir, instantly pulled her closer.

It was Zanth! She sighed in happiness, nuzzling close to him once more. Absently, she used her powers to probe his mind. He was unusually contented, his head fuzzy with a potent mixture of sleep and love. He was in love with Sarah. Everything about her, from her violet eyes to the unusual surprises that occurred around her. He was sick with it. He hadn't eaten properly for days, only thinking about all the danger she was in.

Tears were falling down Vida's cheeks. He was in love with a girl that didn't exist. Sarah was no more. He was waiting for her, planning to search the mountain to find her. "Zanth," she whispered to his sleeping form. He didn't stir, only smiled goofily. "Zanth, I love you. I will always love you, no matter what Thengorn says or does, no matter how much I hurt you. I love you." She rested her head on his shoulder and willed herself to stay awake, just to be alert and protect him from a world that neither of them deserved to live in.

**aaaaaaaaaawwwwwwwwwwww!!!!!! how cute. i decided i needed some nice fluff after making vida suffer so much in the last couple chapters. i hope the part with thengorn an garyth wasn't too confusing. i needed that scene for garyth (u'll figure it out later) but i don't want to tell what thengorn's grand plan is yet. u'll find out soon tho. possibly in the next chpt... or the one after that...**


	10. ch 6 part 1

**i didnt think i would be able to finish a whole chapt this weekend cus of midterms... but i guess i managed to pull it off. woot!**

**thanks to all my reviewers!! especially...**

**wynnefred blaire, who withstands my incessant annyoing emials and helped me with The Last (yes, i'm updating it. i've just been concentrating on this one a lot)**

**flying high (and a number i cant remember), who helped me work out a few character flaws... or lack their of... in vida and zanth**

**and last but not least calisto callipsi, if all of you could leave me reviews like that, i would personally... well i dont kno what i would personally do, but it would be rly good! thanks so much, and the following scene with vida and navonod is all for you. **

Chapter 6 part 1

The next morning Zanth invited Vida to go riding on a nearby trail. Since Vida didn't know any other requirements of herself then to get into Zanth's head and learn his secrets, she agreed, a little reluctantly.

As they rode, Vida asked him about his studies over-seas. They were genuinely interesting and she found herself vaguely day dreaming about hot suns and desert sands. The stories themselves were fascinating, but the way Zanth spoke was captivating. Several times she had to catch him as he almost fell out of his saddle with his exuberant retelling of different occurrences.

They paused for a break by a pond, sheltered by a grove of sweeping willows. They tied their horses to a branch, giving them a little room to roam, then set up a picnic for lunch. Vida ate little, gazing instead absently into the distant water.

"My home looked a lot like this," she commented. "There was a pond, anyway. This trail feels different though, like its not really here." She pressed her hand against the grass, and then drew it back abruptly. There was blood in the earth, and pain and remorse. Something long forgotten, but ever present. "It's a spell. This trail isn't really here."

Zanth bit into a plum and shrugged. "Of course it isn't. Its just faerie magic. We can hardly have thick forests in the capital."

"Why not?"

"Because… that's just how it is."

Vida wanted to disagree, but Zanth had a frown of irritation on his brow. It reminded her that no matter how much she pretended, she was still the slave and he the master. Anything he said, she had to do. "I think I'm going to take a walk and stretch my legs." Zanth, still scowling at nothing, did not reply.

Vida walked aimlessly on the ponds perimeter. The thick vines of the willow quickly hid her from the prince. No sooner was she out of sight then the surface of the pond began to chill. She let out a slow sigh, and her breath froze in a frost mist before her. Angrily, she pierced the tangling vines for Navonod.

"Where are you?" she hissed, shivering. "I know you hear me, Navonod. Show yourself."

"Come to me," came his icy whisper from somewhere in the distance.

She opened her mouth to refuse, but felt herself being tugged forward anyway, as if her feet had a mind of their own. She walked straight into the cold embrace of Navonod.

"Hello, my love. It has been so long," he whispered.

She pushed him away, impatiently. "I don't have time for your games. How did you get a signet ring?"

He blinked his sapphire eyes innocently. "Why, whatever do you mean?"

She pointed to the band that rested across her dark skin. "I mean this band. I mean that only a person who bears the royal signet ring can control me. Where did you get it?"

He curled on hand around her waist, pressing her close to his body. "Why bother with inferior details, darling? My mind is simply aflutter with possibilities. I control you now. I can make you do anything I want."

She knew Navonod enough to know he was waiting for her to show anger or fear. As such, she must give him neither. She slackened her body and leaned against him, craning her neck to look in his eyes. "Navonod, darling, anything that is going on in that ice-cube of a mind has already been unsuccessfully attempted by Garyth. Do you really think I would let you have me and not a prince?"

Just as predicted, Navonod gave an annoyed grumble and pushed her away. "Always have to ruin my fun, Vida." He seemed to debate something a moment longer, then shrugged the idea off. "How are you fairing?"

She gave a soft laugh. "Well, considering I've been randomly beaten, bound into servitude and betrayed by magical brethren who wants freedom for the faeries as much as I, I am fairing quite well."

"Oh Vida, did you really think that there was anything but business between us?" Navonod asked, at the same time fiddling with a stray lock of her hair.

Vida knocked his hand away. "Of course not, darling. I just fail to see the purpose of handing the last member of the most powerful clan of faeries to the enemy we have been trying to overcome," she replied, sweetly. This back and forth flirting was hard on the head, she would admit, but it kept her wits up. However much she hated to admit it, Navonod indirectly taught her most of what she knew about probing a person's personality to get the right answer. It was a challenge, but a challenge she secretly enjoyed.

Navonod sat at the base of a tree, and patted the root beside him, beckoning for Vida to follow suit. "Don't make me order you," he warned. Vida, properly chastised, sat next to him. "We are still betrothed, you know. Despite the amount of challenge and competition we give each other, we have been betrothed since birth."

She grasped his chin roughly with her hands, digging her nails into his icy cold flesh. "Poor Navonod. Does he miss the promise of a Smoke at his side?"

He wriggled his face from her grasp then gripped her throat, making the spittle freeze in her mouth. She glared, and he smiled. "Only in my bed," he whispered. "Resist me. Just try."

It was an order she was more than willing to follow. The chains over her powers suddenly broke, and she rested her hand on top of Navonod's. Despite the gentle appearance of this gesture, she sent a painful shock of energy into his body, making him draw back with pain. "Enough of these games," she said, sharply. "Why did you give me to the royal family?"

He smiled that annoying cold smile once more. "I'm glad to see you have hidden your weakness from Sarah. She wasn't fun to taunt at all, much too easy to scare. I could have done anything I wanted with her."

"So why didn't you," Vida quipped, getting angry. Yes, Sarah had indeed been a weak and ignorant creature. She had possessed Vida's cleverness, but had a fear of using it. In her line of business, fear was something best left forgotten. The fact that Zanth loved Sarah meant that he loved a girl who would easily submit, who was under control. She had no feeling for the humans. She could not. The humans had destroyed her entire life. The only emotion she saved for them was hate.

Navonod was gazing at her with an amused look, one eyebrow raised in question. "You have gotten soft," he commented.

Vida mentally reached back into her brain and found Navonod's magical presence there, listening to her thoughts with a bemused expression. Her magical-self growled and pushed him out, angry that she had taught him such a trick. "I have not gone soft," she said out loud.

"Then prove it," Navonod said, pulling a dagger from his belt, and tracing it along her bare arms. Small cuts blossomed with black blood, but she did not even blink in displeasure. It would heal in a few minutes and she had enough endurance to fight the instinct of turning away. "Still strong in endurance, of that I'm proud." He halted and handed the dagger to her, hilt first. She took it, gratefully, though it would help her little in a confrontation. "Kill Zanth. Kill him and halt all of our problems. Decapitate their government and let us overthrow them. We can rebuild our forests, refurbish our homes and rid the world of these wretched humans."

She could feel the silver ordering her to push forward and plunge the dagger into Zanth's heart. "What will that prove? What will we succeed? There will always be someone else to take the throne, always another person to treat our magic with fear. If I kill Zanth, I might destroy our only chance of freedom."

Navonod refused to listen. "There is a masquerade ball at the end of this week. Thegorn wants you to create the perfect woman for Zanth, that way he can use her to control him. You know Zanth loves Sarah. He will be waiting there for her, and she will come. Because of Thengorn's orders, she will come. Because of my orders, you will kill him."

"I won't do it, Navonod. He is our only chance."

He lifted his hand and struck her sharply across her face, leaving an icy patch upon her cheek. "No, he is your only chance. First One and Keeper protect you, you _love_ him! Don't you understand that he feels nothing for you! You are his pet, his amusing possession. You are an _oil-vein_! He doesn't love you, he loves Sarah!"

She stood suddenly, her skirt swirling with unchecked magic around her. "Navonod, we have fallen far. I understand that. But I will not waste our last chance for freedom with your rash decision."

He lifted his hand once more, not to strike her but to show the silver ring on his finger, the royal signet ring. "You have no choice, Vida of the Smoke clan. As far as I'm concerned, you belong to me."

Female faeries very rarely reduced themselves to physical confrontations. Their bones were weak and their magic was more than strong enough to compensate for such trivial matters. Vida did not seem to care much at that point. She drew her fist back to her ear and slammed the curled appendage into the bridge of Navonod's nose. Instantly, black blood welled up and dribbled over his face. Vida spat on his shoe, the returned to Zanth.

**so you have finished on more chapter, **

**your thoughts I'd love to hear.**

**press that purple button and leave reviews share,**

**it takes butone smallmoment, i dolove getting them so,**

**and if you don't, remember this, i control the show....**

**(in other words, give me a review and i'll update faster)**


	11. ch 6 part 2

**okay, i kno it took me a very long time to finish this part, but it took me a long time to create a violent Zanth. **

**anyway, couple ppl i need to thank, and they are the ones who not only took the time to leave me a review, but left me entire essays for the execuation of events thus far. i love intructive criticism so, in a word, the following ppl totally rock!**

**wynnefred blaire- as always, youre awesome.i hope this following chptfixes a few of the snags you pointed out.**

**nadia- new reviewer. always fun.a couple of things youpointed out i hadnt even realized, but the whole zanth falling in love thing...zanth never admited to loving sarah. vida figured it out for herself, using her powers. again, i hope thischpt clears a few things up. **

**as always, thanks to evry1 for the reviews! i appreciate them all. i just had to mention those two becuase the left so many helpful critiques. **

**o! and if yur mad that these chpts are short, sry.as u may have noticed, these chpts become VERY long and updates would be a lot slower if i didnt break themup.**

**(and for anyone confused about the correlation of this story and The Last, read the last update. It explains everything)phew! think i got everything.**

Zanth had almost fallen asleep; the sun was so warm on his face that it just asked him to close his eyes and doze to a soundless lullaby. The wind was light and refreshing and the near by sound of hooves as the horses grazed by the pond was comforting.

And then he felt something. It wasn't particularly painful; it felt as if something heavy and cold was being pressed against his chest, just enough to make him uncomfortable. He squinted and propped himself on his elbows, looking for the source. Vida was standing right beside him, looking furious.

"Vida, what's wrong? Is that you doing that? Stop." Instantly, the pressing feeling disappeared. He remembered the signet ring and her crown and rolled his eyes. Of course, why didn't he do that in the first place? "Where were you?"

"I told you. I went for a walk."

He sat up the rest of the way, sensing that Vida wasn't telling the whole truth. "Tell me. Where did you go? What happened to make you so angry?"

She opened her mouth, clenched it shut, then smiled. "My betrothed possesses a rather irksome demeanor. He angered me, but it happens often." She sat down. Zanth let his eyes linger down her petite body as she did so. Perhaps it was well-off that he did, for he just barely caught sight of a silvery dagger being transferred from the flat of her wrist to the belt at her waist. He blinked and blatantly stared at her waist, searching for a bulge in the fabric that would suggest hiding a weapon. Either he had imagined it, or she was very good at hiding it.

"What was that?"

"What was what, your highness?" she asked, innocently.

"Are you carrying a weapon?"

She closed her eyes a moment, then shook her head. "No."

"Tell the truth."

"Yes."

So that was how she was doing it! She had actually devised a way to get around the power of the silver band. If he didn't voice his statement as a direct order, she just twisted around his words and answered with half-truths. He was mildly impressed, and greatly annoyed. "You shouldn't do that, you know. It makes people angry."

She turned her head fast, glaring. "What do I care for _your_ people? How would you feel if our positions were reversed? If you had to obey while I held the ring? What would you care if you made me angry or not?"

He scoffed. "Don't talk to me that way."

Instantly, her jaw clenched closed. She shook her head and spoke, overly polite. "How would you like me to speak, your highness?"

He growled, standing up and beginning to pace. "The question isn't how you should speak. It is how you should act. You are dangerous! I see it every time you cast a side-long look to my brother or Thengorn. Doors and windows open so fast in your brain… always calculating, finding a way out and finding a way in. Every time I look into your eyes I see nothing. Nothing! But at the same time, everything! And that night… in the warehouse… you sounded like… like-"

"Like Sarah," Vida finished for him. She was glaring, arms folded over her chest and standing to meet his frustrated words. "You want me to be like Sarah. Ignorant, innocent… easy to control. No tricks."

He turned fast, raising his hand in anger. He dropped it quickly and continued pacing. "Silly oil-vein! Don't talk about what you don't understand! Don't use those little faerie deceptions to get into my mind. I have known you for hardly more than a day and you seem to know everything about me! You are an evil, treacherous, lying, little parasite!"

"You love her! Admit it to yourself so others can admit it out loud. You love her because of her weakness. It makes you feel strong to protect her."

"Enough!" Zanth screamed, and this time struck Vida sharply across the cheek. He didn't know what was wrong with him. Every mention of Sarah struck a dagger in his gut, and that this faerie had searched his memories and read his soul to find every last emotion induced by that girl infuriated him. Yes, he would admit to himself that he had been attracted to the mysterious forest girl; her unusual gift of languages and even more unique appearance had been… interesting. But love! That was taking it a step too far.

And this faerie, this oil-veined _slave_, had the nerve to wave around half-witted apparitions like a child with a new toy and boast assumptions with a bravado even he couldn't muster. She was so clever; half the time she didn't even use her powers, answers simply fell into her lap, spilt from his own lips. The other half, things like this happened. She hid weapons on her person and questioned his thoughts. He was a prince! A member of the court wouldn't speak to him thusly. What gave this creature the right to it? "Give me your weapon. Now."

She jerked as she resisted the order then reached into her belt and retrieved the dagger, handing it to him hilt first. He clipped it onto his own belt, determined to thwart her malice with a public bravado to match her own.

"Do you see that lake? Swim in it. No, fly into the air and dive from those great heights. Don't surface until your lungs ache for air."

The glare Vida hit him with as her shadowy wings fluttered could have boiled water it was so raw. "Reh'tils shunamey koor!" she hissed as she flew. Zanth wasn't sure what that phrase meant, but coupled with his command and her glare, he made a guess that it wasn't particularly good.

Suspended in the air, she hesitated only a moment before his demand pulled her forward and she tipped forward, plunging into the murky water of the lake.

Seconds ticked by. Zanth waited. He had to teach this faerie a lesson. A lesson she would surely remember. He knew the cruel nature of what he just asked, but if she was to be treated so highly above the other faerie servants, the least she could do was act courteously. She must get used to following orders, to obeying without question.

A minute passed. There was a growing violence in his stomach. He wanted to see this creature suffer, if not for her species than for her daring. For literally accusing him of being so weak he must love an ignorant forest-girl to be complete.

Two minutes. It was strange. When arguments and disagreements of this nature happened in court, he wanted to hit the assailing party with so much force they simply crumbled. He wanted to see them suffer.

Three minutes. He never could, though. Now, he was given the ability to put into affect the violence in his imagination; the violence that every human being had and was forced to subdue and hide. The barbarianism of simple revenge.

Four minutes. He didn't want to think of himself as a cruel, heartless tyrant, though. Yes, it was in human nature to feel such things as a desire and joy of seeing another suffer, but it was a symbol of strength of just how well one could resist the temptation. With that final thought, he rushed toward the pond, not a moment before the surface broke and a drenched and gasping Vida swam, exhausted, to shore.

She stared at him. How could so many emotions be welled up into one look? She stood up, her chest heaving as it sucked at the air it so desperately cleaved, and whistled to call her horse.

"Vida, I'm so sorry."

She didn't even turn to acknowledge him. It was as if something inside her was broken, something fragile and delicate that he had just shattered without a second thought. She tried to pull herself onto the saddle (her wings appeared too wet to fly), but a mixture of depleted oxygen and raw emotion coursing through her veins left her weak.

Zanth rested a hand on her wrist to prevent her movement, but she jerked away abruptly, as if his touch had burned her skin. She closed her eyes a moment and the horse knelt to the ground, allowing her to mount it without pulling herself up.

"Vida, wait. Stop, please." He knew he was ordering her, but this time he felt he had to. He had to apologize for his atrocious behavior, though words would do nothing to justify it. She didn't stop. Her horse kept galloping on the trail, back to the castle. Zanth did not follow her.

Out of listening distance from the prince, Vida pulled at the wads of cloth in her ear, torn from her skirt to prevent her hearing. Anything Zanth wanted to say, she didn't want to hear, and anything she had to say would fall on deaf ears anyway.

**you kno the drill. u like. review. u dont like. still review. if u think i should totally discontinue my young career as a writer...eh, still review, that the heck. o yea, thank amelia for the quick update. she helped me clear put a few ideas from my writers block. lots luv to all**


	12. ch 6 part 3

**blech! i'm soo sick right now! and i spent my entire day off from school typing this chapter instead of sittng on the couch and watching tv. be grateful! leave me reviews. lots of them. or i swear i'll sneeze on you!**

Chapter 6 part 3

The time for games was over. She had suffered from her own pity long enough, let herself be used for other's advantages, and now seen that Zanth had no desire to help her. She had the tools to better her fate; it was only a matter of using them.

She was going to tell Zanth everything; an ally would be such a relief at this point in time. It has been child's play to work around the silver binding her, she could simply move around the countless orders she had been given and confide in Zanth.

But then, something had changed. He had changed. Out of no more incentive than to see her suffer, he had ordered her to do such a cruel, heartless task… Well, if that is what he wanted to be, she wanted nothing to do with it. A week in this servitude would be too long, too dangerous. She had to find a way out.

The cloth in the ears was an old faerie trick; equivalent to a human pointing in a far off direction and shouting "Look!" as a distraction. Unfortunately, they could hardly go around deaf to the world all day. It would require them to use their magic more than the First One and Keeper would permit.

Back at the palace, she dismounted her horse and gave it to one of the hostlers to care for, silently thanking it for its efforts. She took a brief glance at her fine clothes and shook her head. These garments would not do for snooping. Recalling the plain brown homespun tunic and trousers the rest of the faerie slaves wore, she willed an illusion over her existing attire. Called a glamour, her original skirt of black and silver still remained, but was hidden in a cloak of magic resembling the tough homespun. Remembering the laws of her people and their frown upon the wasting of magic, she decided the glamour would be better used instead of actually willing her clothes to change.

Walking through the halls, she scurried just like a slave would, her hands wringing nervously together and her bottom lip caught between her teeth. Her head was working a mile a minute, despite her demure outward quality. Navonod had told her the reason for Thengorn's interest in her. He had made it sound like a slip of the tongue. That was where her discrepancy laid. People like Navonod didn't make slips of the tongue. Every word had a purpose, catalyzing toward a greater purpose. The trick wasn't to figure out what the greater purpose was; looking at the whole picture would only confuse her if she didn't have all the fact first. She needed to find the little details she was missing first. The best place to start was Thengorn's quarters.

Vida knew Thengorn to be a businessman, and any good businessman knew to keep everything in writing. It was impossible for a human to keep such a bountiful supply of sums and trade-offs in their head. It had to be written somewhere.

In Thengorn's quarters, Vida scanned the room, her eyes glowing white as she acquired the taste of his routine. No one had told her not to do this, so she thusly assumed that she could. There! She had it. He kept logs of his days activities hidden in the antechamber.

She brushed the padlock on the door, asking it to open. To her surprise, it refused. Another faerie had told it not to. Absently, she probed the inanimate object. It was wreathed in bright day faerie magic, glaringly obvious. Night faerie magic molded around it easily, simply brushing past it as it looked the other way. Quite soon, she found herself on the other side of the locked door, hunting for the day logs.

There were many of them. He kept them in code for safety, and the entirety of one entry was not in one book. It was spread throughout several. It would be impossible for a human to break this code without the key. Fortunately for Vida, it was just like another language.

All faeries had the gift of languages. Whether by looking at the written form or listening to the spoken word, their magic would recognize and imprint the mechanics upon their mind. Codes were useless around them, because their magic instinctively took it as another language and translated it into a tongue they were familiar with. Their magic was quite literally like a separate entity to them, one that got mad or happy or frustrated as it was being used. Vida always took special care to make her magic calm, it performed better that way.

Glancing through the books, she quickly flipped through the pages, eyes darting across the pages as she took in the words and translated them. In mere minutes she was complete.

Thengorn wanted a night faerie to figure out Zanth's weaknesses and create a partner for him that could play off such discrepancies, ultimately placing the prince in Thengorn's control. That was what Navonod had told her. Any faerie could have done that, though. Illusions and glamours were simple for day or night faeries. That was where Thengorn's plans took a sadistic turn.

A night faerie could connect herself with any other faerie and lend them strength… or take it away. It was not an easy task and it required an extreme level of control so not to break the bind too abruptly and kill both subjects. Thengorn wanted to stop the faerie rebellions by tapping the source, simply destroy all of the faeries.

_Navonod, you lying ice-brained bastard! You knew this! First One and Keeper protect you, if I live through this, I will kill you!_ If Navonod heard her violent thought, he gave no sign of it. She was fairly sure she had enough information to start filling in the blanks. Navonod was tired of fighting a battle that didn't apply to him. The ice-people were left alone on the mountain. Humans had no reason to destroy their homes for their powers didn't work away from the cold and the land wasn't fertile for farming or mining. Navonod had been drafted into service through duty; he was half faerie and as such his powers actually worked away from the mountain.

So as such, Thengorn's plot to simply rid the world of the faeries was a good one. It wouldn't apply to him, his ice-person's qualities almost completely masked his faerie-ness, and he could make sure she remained safe since she would be the one administering the spell. In a sick, twisted way, she supposed she should be grateful.

Her ears suddenly perked to the sound of a far door opening. Someone was entering Thengorn's quarters!

**i kno. majorly short. majorly boring. majorly cliffhanger. this part had to be written because i needed the proper execution of plans to continue with the story. didnt make it any less boring tho! next part will be better, i promise. o yea! i only got TWO reviews from the last update. whats wrong with u guys. did it suck that bad? if u're reading it and are just too lazy to leave a review... leave one anyway! i dont kno if yur reading it if u dont review. o yea... feel free to email any questions u have about my stories. if u leave them in the reviews, i might forget to answer them in these author notes... (i do try tho!)**


	13. ch 6 part 4 last part!

**okay, VERY IMPORTANT!_NO ONE CAME INTO THE ROOM!_** **i gave u the last chpt too early, and i hadbt revised it. so bear in mind. NO ONE CAME IN THE ROOM!**

**o yea... thank god i finally updated. i think this part rocks, so lost and lots of reviews please**

She fled from the room silently, her mind already beginning to formulate a plan. She could sense that the war between the humans and faeries was destined to end. Someone had to lose. There was a time when the two species had existed harmoniously, but that time was over. There was nothing she could do to relieve the fear bred from the humans for her kind.

Zanth would not help her. The only ally she might have acquired among the humans had turned against her. Navonod was useless; he would finish this conflict the easiest way possible- wipe out the losing side. She had no more armies to lead, no more idols to follow. There had to be a reason left to fight, and Vida was hard pressed to find one. Maybe Navonod had the right idea. She was tired of fighting too. Maybe it was just better to stop.

She entered her room and let the glamour fall away from her clothes, revealing the slightly damp, hem torn dress she had originally wore. She was not alone in the room.

Vida felt his presence immediately. There last encounter had been intimate enough to leave an impression on her mind. "Good afternoon, Garyth. I trust you slept well."

She glanced behind her and saw the young prince reveal himself from the shadows. He bore a dagger. Instantly she was reminded of Navonod's orders. How would she get out of that snag?

She didn't have much time to continue that line of thought for Garyth had grabbed her roughly from behind, pressing the blade of the dagger into her abdomen, just below her ribcage. It was not hard enough to break the skin, but the pressure was insistent enough for her not to move.

"What have you done to me!" Came his raspy whisper in her ear. His voice seemed oddly hoarse, as if he had just been screaming. "What spell have you cast that haunts my dreams and springs from the shadows like a panther on the hunt."

"I've done nothing to you," she said honestly. He pressed the dagger harder against her.

"You're lying! I know it was you! I know it!" His voice came out in choked sobs of fear. Yes, it was true that night faeries had an unusual knack for knowing what a person feared most, but Vida hadn't done that since that day, so long ago in the forest, when she had killed a fellow faerie from fear. "I have dreams of disappearing. Of being here in soul and body, but without a voice to do anything. And you have done it to me. As punishment."

Vida took a few deep breaths. The emotions coming from Garyth were mixed with so much desperation, she had a hard time sorting through all of them, and didn't want to use her magic to startle him further. Gingerly, her violet fingers stroked his trembling hand, the one that held the knife so taunt to her side. She spoke soft, soothing words, not really aware of what she was saying but knowing that with each stroke of her hand, his grip on the knife slowly loosened. In slow motion, it seemed, the dagger fell from his hands, right before he crumbled to the softly carpeted floor.

Vida knelt beside him, at a loss for anything to say. The magic itched the back of her eyes, begging to be used to find what was going on in his mind, but she pushed it away. Garyth was afraid of her magic, and she didn't need him to act rashly because of that fear.

Tears glistened in Garyth's eyes. "It was you. I know it was you. I'm sorry I hurt you, but please make it go away. Please, please!" He collapsed further, leaning on her narrow shoulder for support. Vida gasped in surprise, not only from the weight, but from the shock of him seeking comfort from a faerie.

"Garyth, your too heavy. Please, sit up." He did, but kept his hand over hers on the floor, trapping her there. He looked at her, his eyes pleading, and she could feel her heart breaking. Not from love, for she had no love for this spoiled prince, but from pity. He was quite literally trapped in his own mind, and she knew, more than anyone, what that felt like.

"My jealousy has bred hate for far too long. When I came to you last night, and you said those things to me… I couldn't get it out of my head. No matter how many times I tried to convince myself that I was on the just side, your words kept coming back to me, like an echo in a tunnel. Everything in my room seemed to be remind me of you, and the darkness… the darkness was so thick…" His entire body shook from fear, but Vida could not even begin to determine what it was from. She had done nothing, and as far as she was concerned, there was no other faerie capable of such a spell.

At the back of her mind, the plotist began to stir. This was a chance for a human ally. All hope was not lost after all, so long as she played her cards right. "Have you ever considered that it is not me that is placing these spells on you, but your own mind playing tricks on you."

He shook his head. "I don't know. With so many faeries in the palace, how can you tell what is your own mind and what is magic?" He pressed his hand firmly upon her own, rooting her to the spot.

"I had nothing to do with this, but my magic is strong. I can change it," she offered, carefully. Garyth's face flickered with fear, but Vida placed her other hand on top of his. "I won't hurt you. I promise."

"Alright."

She closed her eyes, letting the magic fill her. She entered Garyth's mind as if it were an open door, and let herself be overcome by the lingering sensation of being two people at the same time. There were flashes of memories before her eyes, but she pushed them away. It was enough of an invasion being inside someone else's head, but she didn't want to pry into his personal memories at the same time. She only needed one.

There it was, his memory of last night. He watched as Vida entered Zanth's quarters. She probed deeper. There was a memory of cold and ice. _Navonod?_ What was he doing in Garyth's memory?

_"You've seen too much, little prince. Time to pay for that nosy nature of yours." His very voice sent frost down his spine, chilling his heart with ice. _

_"What do you mean? I don't even know you."_

_Navonod reached out, brushing a snow white finger along his temple. "But you do know of me, and that is quite enough. See if these dreams won't change your mind."_

And there it was. The spell that felt so familiar and yet she knew she hadn't cast. She and Navonod spent enough time together that their magic felt like an actual person. She should have recognized it before. She reached and grasped the spell, feeling Navonod's cold magic resist, but her own magic yanked it ruthlessly, making it tumble into her own fathomless eyes.

Garyth's hand slipped away from hers, but she was still too lost in her spell to react. Navonod's magic was cold, and her magic hated cold. Cold dampened its power. She needed to rid the spell from her, or else it would latch onto her, making her see the fears that Garyth had. Not fun. But there was a lingering sense of something in the magic, as if Navonod had left a message there, knowing Garyth would come to her to remove it.

_You're mine. You're mine. You're mine._ His voice echoed repeatedly in her skull. His magic began to blossom from the original core to a clawing vine, grasping at her magic with icy thorns.

_You're mine. You're mine. You're mine. _It was a trap! This is what she got for being nice! She should have seen this coming. Navonod had to be sure Zanth was entirely out of the picture, and First One forbid he do it himself. With his signet ring, he only controlled her when he was there, and constantly ordering her. With his magic in her, he could form a direct link into her will. That bastard!

Her magic thrashed, but was steadily weakening in the presence of cold. She was aware of falling, and someone catching her. Garyth! He was still there, he could help.

_Don't speak, don't think, don't feel. Your mine, you're mine, you're mine. _"Fire," she whispered, her eyes flickering open, glowing a harsh diamond white.

Garyth held her weight, keeping her from collapsing entirely. "What was that."

There was a fire in the fireplace. She pointed weakly, and thanked the First One and Keeper that Garyth understood. The moment she felt the warmth, her magic soared and the ice began to melt. Angry and temperamental, her magic thoroughly squashed Navonod's.

Vida opened her eyes, the white glow ebbing away from her eyes. She was on the floor, her head resting on Garyth's knee, her wings sprawled at a somewhat painful angle beneath her. She pushed herself up, fluttering the wrinkles from her wings. "Did it work?"

"Yes," he said. "And… thank you." He meant it, too.

Suddenly, Vida could not stay in that room anymore. She needed to smell the trees, feel the sun. She needed to be away from here. "Your welcome. Excuse me, your highness." She excited the room quickly, her feet hurrying along the stone floor. The walls seemed to be closing in on her. She couldn't breathe! She couldn't feel the air!

"Vida!" She heard his footsteps and winced. She did not want to speak to Zanth right now. She turned, and he was there, his face flushed as if he had been running. "Vida, I'm sorry. I know nothing I can say or do will make you forgive me, but I want you to know that man, back there at the pond, that wasn't me."

"Zanth, I-"

"No, you don't have to explain anything. Just," he reached at his belt and unclipped the dagger he had taken from her earlier. "Here. This is yours. I don't know what you need it for, but I know you are just as capable of killing without it. And, I really am sorry."

"Zanth, no! You don't under-"

He was already gone.


	14. ch 7 the end!

**this is the last chpater! waaah!**

Chapter 7

Zanth stood in front of a full length mirror, holding his arms out to the sides as the seamstress made some last minute adjustments on his dress tunic. The masquerade ball was that evening, but he had no desire to go. None at all.

Over the last week the final preparations for the occasion had been made, and a grand occasion it would be. The faeries had used their magic (with much argument on the newer workers, who continually cried about becoming a _lejdee_, whatever that was), and created a most fantastical scene. They had literally transformed the ballroom into a floating platform on the clouds. One could reach out and scoop a handful of the misty gray clouds in their hands. The ceiling and walls had been transformed to seem like an endless expanse of indigo sky, split with glittering constellations and a wide silver moon. They had even affected the temperature, making it just cool enough to complete the illusion without being uncomfortable.

And because it was a masquerade ball, he was expected to hide his true appearance until later in the night. There was a thrill in not knowing who anyone was. This meant he would be able to hide in the crowd, at least until the unmasking.

His character was one from popular myth. Alexander of the Sun was supposedly supposed to fear darkness more than anything else in the world. Every night, he would steal a ray of the sun and trap it in a lantern. By the time the lantern would go out, the sun would rise. After a while of this, the sun gave Alexander a stone filled with its rays, and it would glow silver as the night came. Alexander wanted to share this stone with the world, so tossed it into the sky where it became fastened, forever a moon.

His costume was magnificent. His seamstress, a timid day faerie whose crown glittered as she moved nimbly from one side of Zanth to the other, was truly a gifted creature. She used the perfect mixture of fabric, seams and magic to make a stunning garment. He had worn nice clothes before, but not like this. It hugged his body as naturally as if his skin. The subtle reds and oranges, leading to a finely embroidered pointed sleeve, resembled the rays of a sun. Golden brown leggings offset his dark brown hair, and a watching sash was tied around his waist, complete with a hanging lantern that glowed with a soft yellow light.

"Your highness, I am finished. Would you like the mask now?" The seamstress bowed and wrung her hands nervously as she spoke. Her wings quivered in fear.

"Yes." He thought a moment as the faerie turned to her pile of supplies. "What is your name?"

"Liliana, your highness. Liliana of the Leaf clan."

"Well, Liliana, do you know if Vida Smoke still resides in the palace?"

She closed her eyes a moment, as if listening to someone far away. "She is, your highness."

"You can find people using your magic? Can you find me a person? A girl… I'm not sure what her name is, but I always called her Sarah…"

"No, sir, I'm sorry."

"But you just-"

"I can find Vida because her power radiates through all the halls. I would be stupid if I didn't feel it. But my magic isn't any good for practical things like finding things or transporting. Leafs usually just like to make things. I'm sorry." She handed him an intricate gold mask that covered his entire face, but left his mouth open. He held it against his face, and instantly it molded to it, not needing any ties. It was a beautiful ensemble. "But if it helps matters at all, Vida must be very distraught if she's not concealing her magic. She usually prides herself on being subtle."

"You know her personally?"

"Of course, your highness. We were in the same recon of rebels. I made the weapons." Liliana opened the small bag on her shoulder and placed the leftover yards of fabric, spools of thread and scissors inside. And it all fit. That was impossible! She smiled at Zanth's baffled look. "I told you I like making things. The bag never gets any heavy either."

Zanth nodded, impressed, and watched as the faerie left the room. He would like a power like that, to make practical things. He glanced at his reflection in the mirror. Stunning. He didn't recognize himself. He had half a mind to pay Liliana for such a splendid costume.

As the guests entered the ballroom, their character's name was introduced. Sarafina of the Horses, tamer of wild stallions, Donthar of Storms, maker of thunder, Lebasi of the Spices, fixer of bland foods (yes, that was someone's actual character)… The scent of hundreds of mixed perfumes nauseated Zanth, and the mindless chatter and giggles of the ladies all but sent his crawling at the twinkling stars.

It seemed that the fashion for the ball was light, pastel colors. It made the entire room look like an enormous birthday cake, and it made the deep burgundies and golds of his costume stick out even more. He groaned beneath his golden mask. This would be a long night.

He danced a little, had a small sip of wine, and danced more. It looked like his plan to blend in had been ruined. Everyone wanted to know who the young lad with the riveting costume was, and all the girls wanted to dance with him.

"Why, Alexander of the Sun, am I correct?" A male voice to his side commented. Zanth sighed in relief and moved toward the speaker, prying off the three flirting ladies as he did so.

"I am he. And what should I call you, friend?"

The man was dressed in the same pale colors as the rest of the ball, but the ice white tunic seemed to suit him much better. "I am Nevando of the blizzards," he said from behind his silver mask. "And it is a pleasure to meet you."

"The pleasure is mine. Are you enjoying yourself?"

"Oh yes, it is magnificent. But if you will excuse me, I see a lovely lady with no dance partner." He pushed past him, and his hand strayed across Zanth's, pressing a folded piece of parchment into his palm.

Not sure how to react, Zanth opened the note, holding it close to his face in the dim light. _Sarah is here._

He dropped the note and his eyes darted for Nevando, but he seemed to have vanished.

Sarah? Here! He wasn't sure what to feel, but excitement was definitely one of them. He wanted to see her. Wanted to hold her. But first, he needed to find her.

A courtier pounded his staff on the marble floor, and his voice boomed through the soft melody of music. "Announcing Serena of the Moon."

A girl floated in, and Zanth knew, with every inch of his being, that this was Sarah. Her head turned his way as her eyes darted for a familiar face. She seemed scared out of her mind. Well, of course she would be. She wouln't be used to grand parties like this. He hurried to her side, meaning to comfort her.

"Alexander of the Sun," she greeted softy. Zanth could see her eyes behind the elegant slants in her mask. They were a riveting violet, like nothing he had ever seen before. He found he was suddenly at a loss for words. His tongue was like a shriveled slug in his mouth.

She was beautiful. Dressed entirely in black, her gown was like none other in the ballroom. The neck swooped at a graceful curve along her collar bone, to dip into a dramatic 'V' in the back. The sleeves were long and silky, seeming to flow like the night sky. The edges were so long, they trailed with the pools of black and silver fabric at her feet.

She was staring at him, as if waiting for him to reply to something. Zanth shook his head, swallowed hard to moisten his tongue, and held out his hand. "Serena of the Moon, would you care to dance?"

She took his hand, stepping closer to him. " I need to speak with you, Prince Zanth," she whispered in his ear, barely audible when mixed with the sounds of music and laughter around them. "It is very important. Meet me in fifteen minutes on the balcony." Without another word, she turned and left him, quite speechless, alone in the midst of people.

The man from before, Nevando he had called himself, suddenly appeared behind him. "Intriguing character, is she not?"

"You know her," Zanth asked, still too baffled to do anything than stare blankly at the spot that Sarah had just been.

"Of course I do. We are very close. I feel it is my duty to tell you something about her, something she should have told you long ago."

Zanth, with chills crawling down his back from Nevando's voice, listened carefully.

Vida paced the balcony outside, glad to be out of the ballroom were the magic of so many faeries was like sandpaper across her skin. The real night was not clear and starry as it was portrayed inside. In fact, it was incredibly cloudy with the smell of rain wafting on the breeze.

She had to tell Zanth, tell him everything. His life was at stake, and that was more than she could withstand. She had a theory. If Zanth simply told her not to take orders from anyone, the many demands placed upon her threatening Zanth's life would be lifted. She prayed to the First One that her theory was correct, for she could feel the cold press of the dagger in the small of her back, reminding her of what she had to do.

The door to the ballroom opened, and Zanth walked to her. Something was wrong. He had taken the mask off, and she saw anger in his eyes. She quicked a glance to her hand to remind her that it was not purple, but an odd whitish gray… as human-esque as she could possibly make herself. Besides for the height difference and the change in eye color, she looked very much the same. It would apt for her to keep her mask on until after she told Zanth who she really was.

"Take off your mask," Zanth said, no ordered. There was that extra force in his voice that was saved for when he was angry at Vida. But she wasn't Vida right now; she was Sarah!

Her body jerked slightly, instinctively resisting the order, but her hand drew up and removed the mask anyway. She had hidden the silver band on her forehead with a glamour. There was no way Zanth could recognize her. She needed to tell him now. "Zanth, what I'm about to tell you might seem hard to believe but-"

"Quiet, Vida Smoke," he snapped. Her jaw snapped shut. "All this time, all your assurances and advise that I loved Sarah… it was all a part of your plot. You are a faerie! Stop pretending and show yourself!"

The magic moved on its own accord, coerced by the silver that bound her, no matter how hidden it was. Her bones weakened, her height diminished and her skin took on a dusty purple coloring. It was a very good thing she had gone to Nissa for a dress, for it molded to her body no matter what she did.

"Who told you?" Vida asked quietly. She was ashamed to be like this in front of Zanth, horrified by her dark skin and fathomless eyes because she knew it horrified Zanth. And that he could never love her like this.

"You betrothed, Navonod. He seemed horrified by the idea that anyone would influence someone's emotions, something you seem to have no regrets in doing."

This was the end. She could feel it. No matter what happened, Zanth would never forgive her. She didn't know what she expected, but she had hoped he would be a little more understanding. "Zanth, you must listen."

"No! You listen! You used me! I suppose it wasn't part of your grand plot to be captured, but then you used that to your advantage as well, making me have a compassion for faeries when there should be none, making my brother tremble at the sight of a shadow…"

Zanth continued to rant, and Vida could feel Navonod's order pushing her forward, making her finger the hilt of the dagger tucked in a sightless pocket at the back of the dress. _No! He didn't tell me when! I still have time! _"Zanth, if you value your life, listen to me!"

"What? Are you going to kill me now? Go ahead! Kill me! Kill me now!"

She grit her teeth, digging her nails into the palms of her hand to resist the order. It hurt! It was like crunching broken glass into her brain. But she would not give in! "Say no! Take it back!" Spots exploded in front of her eyes and she inhaled sharply as her body fought against itself.

He remained stoically silent, his arms crossed over his chest. "I will not! You've tricked me before, and you will not do it again. The silver doesn't work on you. Navonod told me."

_That lying bastard! _"I don't want to hurt you!" The small bones in her hand crunched and strained apart as she resisted the desire to take the dagger in her hand and slash it across his throat.

"You're lying! If you didn't want to hurt me, you would never have looked at me, talked to me, or come close to me!"

Tears streamed down her face. Tears! She had never cried from physical pain before, but it was almost unbearable. Her brain was being split down the center, pounded continuously with a chisel and hammer. She clawed at the silver headband, but as always, it was welded to her skin. It could only be taken off by the same person who ordered her, someone with a signet ring.

Out of desperation, she opened a channel between her mind and Zanth's. _This is what I feel,_ she said in his head, and Zanth was suddenly screaming. Crumbled to the ground and howling in agony, he cried, "Strike all the orders from your head. Follow none of them."

And just like that, the pain stopped. Vida collapsed next to Zanth, physically and mentally exhausted. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry for everything I did or didn't do. I'm sorry I'm not human, not weak and not submissive. I'm sorry I hurt you. I'm sorry that I once loved you. I'm sorry I'm not Sarah. But there is nothing I can do."

He looked at her, his eyes dark and tormented from the briefest glance into a dark faerie mind. "Just go," he said. It was too much. "Leave me, don't come near me again."

The dagger on her back felt as if it had been plunged into her heart. She had known this would happen, and that it was stupid for her to keep pretending, but it didn't make it hurt any less. "Take the crown," she said, pointing to the silver band across her forehead. "Take it and I will leave you."

Zanth had had enough. He would be content to never see another faerie again, especially not Vida. Her power terrified him. A look into her mind was like chancing a peek over a thousand-foot cliff. It left the mind spinning and the stomach clenched after just that brief glance, for it felt as if he would fall into it, and tumble further and further into absolute nothingness. Whatever he needed to do to be rid of this faerie, he was willing to do it. Weakly, he lifted a hand and removed the crown.

She nodded in thanks. "Goodbye, Prince Zanth."

She leapt from the balcony and onto the cushiony grass below. A drizzle began to fall, growing slowly to a steady downpour. She turned her face to the beautiful night sky, throwing her spirit into the whispering gray clouds and letting each drop of rain take from her the bitterness residing in her body. She felt better. How Zanth reacted was not her concern, simply that she had overcome the trial of forgiveness was all that mattered. And she did forgive him. With every drop of rain that rolled over her skin she realized with more and more clarity that she didn't love Zanth, and never had. That feeling of bondage around him was like a life-dept unpaid. She had to love him because he had cared for her when she was little more than an ignorant child, with no memory of who or what she was.

That he loved Sarah and not Vida was not his fault. They were two very different people. He just wanted the one that could never be. And she forgave him for that. It was like a weight being lifted from her shoulders, making her feel young and giddy again.

And Navonod, curse him how he was always right. She could always trust him to rip her wings if it taught her that she could survive without them. And he was right; she did not love Zanth.

"So, you see then," Navonod said from behind a curtain of rain. "I'm not as evil as I seem." He paused a moment. "And I supposed the same is true for you."

She smiled, and it was a real smile. A smile that she was free. There was no better feeling.

"There is still one problem. The faeries are still enslaved. We will never be able to exist peacefully with the humans. They are too greedy," Navonod said.

She gave him an exasperated look. "Did you think I did nothing for this past week?" She closed her eyes, plunging into her magic, letting it wrap around her like a dark blanket. From behind her, the palace suddenly glowed a blinding, unearthly white. Navonod had to shield his eyes it was so bright.

As the light ebbed away, Navonod could see tiny flying creatures fleeing from every window and door. They glowed with the same white as Vida's magic. Like a school of fish, they turned as one to the immobile Vida, whose glowing white eyes shined with extra force, as if she were arguing.

The earth shook, and an enormous fissure appeared in the ground. Each of the miniscule faeries (and that's what they were, faeries that were down-sized to the height of a robin), flitted into the fissure where it closed a moment after.

Vida blinked, the power ebbing from her eyes.

"What was that?" Navonod asked.

"You said it yourself, we will never be able to exist with the humans. At least not in this generation. If all the faeries were freed, we would still have no where to go. That's when I realized, there are worlds we can make Below. Our magic is strong enough, we can simulate our forests as they used to be, before the humans arrived. We would be free from them, from their interaction."

"But why make them so small? Surely there is enough space below that they can have their full size."

She shook her head. "No. Its too muck of a risk. We stay small and have a better chance of hiding. The humans will forget us and we can live our lives without them interfering."

"This is madness! This is never going to work! Hundreds of faeries will resist your idea. What if they rebel against you?"

She shrugged, her body already starting to shrink as she repeated the spell she had just done for the entire faerie population on herself. "Whatever happens, happens. But at least this way, we are free."

"You're mad, Vida," he said, shrinking with her. "A stark raving lunatic." He grinned. "But I wouldn't have it any other way."

**The End! its finished! if u noticed any conflicts that i didnt resolve, PLEASE point them out to me. i tried to hit them all, but u never kno... i typed it fast. could have missed something**


End file.
